It's Time
by Professor Maka
Summary: Gareth Rayne just wanted to be human. Attending the DWMA was a last resort for the young warlock, for who would look for him in plain sight as a NOT meister to his black bastard sword Shane? Unfortunately, things don't always go according to plan. No pairings, but SoMa hints. Centers on an OC, with later focus on Soul and Maka and brief appearances by other canon characters.
1. Chapter 1: Into the Lion's Den

**It's Time:**

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**A/N: While this story centers on an OC meister and his weapon, the second half has plenty of Soul and Maka, and other canon characters make appearances throughout. I centered it on an OC warlock for several reasons: I wanted to use an outsider's perspective on the DWMA and its denizens to see how others might view the characters and institutions of the story world we know and love. I also wanted to explore the idea of the magical world (witches and the like) and the implications of being constantly hunted. Finally, I thought it would be interesting to have a character who was in love with Maka from afar, since in most fanfic I've read, Soul is the object of outside interest rather than his meister.**

******I hope you have fun with it-I certainly had fun writing it.**

**Obviously, I do not own _Soul Eater_, Ohkubo does. I also do not own the lyrics to "It's Time"—those would belong to Imagine Dragons. For efficiencies sake, this author's note will be the only acknowledgement of ownership: use of _Soul Eater_ and "It's Time" appear throughout the story.**

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**Chapter 1: Into the Lion's Den**

_This road never looked so lonely  
This house doesn't burn down slowly  
To ashes, to ashes  
_

He was going to die for the girl he loved, the girl who hardly knew he existed. Maka Albarn, two star meister. He might even die by her hand. How the hell had that happened? Oh, yeah. He'd wanted to live a normal life. Normal. Safe, if he were honest. He'd never meant for it to come down to this, but if he'd discovered anything in his years at the DWMA, it was that things do not always go according to plan. After all, this whole unrequited-love-from-afar-towards-someone-who-woul d-certainly-want-to-kill-you-if-she-knew-the-whole -truth thing had certainly been very far from his agenda when he'd come to Shibusen.

Yeah, that was where it had all begun. And as his life flashed before his eyes, he knew he was totally screwed.

* * *

A few years ago, all he'd wanted to do was figure out a way to pass through life without ending up skewered by some passing death scythe, or worse yet, a blundering DWMA student meister/weapon pair. That was when he got his brilliant idea to hide in plain sight. Well, sort of. He'd never have done it just to hide. He wanted access to their resources so he could learn how to never be found. To pass as human forever. To live out his life in peace. He just wanted to be left alone. To do that, he decided to spend some time right in the heart of the proverbial lion's den. And so, Gareth Rayne, first year NOT meister, was born.

Gareth was, purposefully, a completely average student in the NOT class. He did not draw attention. Okay, sometimes he drew female eyes; he was good looking, he knew that. With medium brown hair he wore parted and falling just to his grey eyes, sharp features, and a tall, lithe build, he turned a few heads. Worse, every now and again, he failed to be as average as he should. He couldn't hide his looks, and his intelligence sometimes flashed out like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. He could not always bite back his wit. Yet, he managed. Whatever else they thought, people did not think he was a warlock. That was the point, right?

Because Gareth _was_ a warlock. That was his problem. Warlocks (or wizards or sorcerers or necromancers or whatever you wanted to call them, but it all boiled down to men born with magic) were exceptionally rare. Just as witches only passed their magic to the female line (but pretty much every daughter born to a witch would be a witch), warlocks only passed it to the male line, but not every man with a warlock father would have the magic. Sometimes, generations later, a warlock would be born to two completely normal, human parents. Warlocks were far less predictable than witches that way.

Of course, he was not born to two normal parents. No, he was even more a rarity than that. Gareth was born to a warlock and a witch. This was almost unheard of, as warlocks and witches were very different and generally at odds. They had no use for one another in general. They had a long-standing antipathy and tended to annoy one another more than anything else. Like most magical beings, when they found themselves in the territory of another, one would generally leave so as not to attract the wrong sort of attention. There were many things that most humans misunderstood about the magical world, but the most problematic one was this: most witches and warlocks weren't actually evil. It was really a problem of reputation and scale. Warlocks and witches had a lot more power than your average Jane, and when they did go bad, it was spectacularly destructive. And there was more temptation, of course. Power could be a very corrupting force, so when they went bad it was very, very bad. Some believed witches and warlocks had an instinct toward destruction they termed the "sway of magic," some sort of destructive drive, but Gareth had always cried bullshit. He had no such drive, nor did anyone else he knew well. Of course there were some he had heard of who were entirely wicked, and some who skirted the line, just as with all people (assholes came in every species, as it were,) but most of them were perfectly normal and wanted to blend in and live normal lives. They just wanted to be left alone.

That was all his parents had wanted. They had found themselves in the same small town decades ago. They had each liked it there, each wanted to stay. When they discovered one another, they had each refused to leave. A rivalry developed, as the warlock and witch quietly tried to drive each other away. The rivalry became a friendly rivalry, and then, eventually, something… more… had come of it. He was a part of that whole more thing. They'd been married a long time now, living normal, peaceful, "human" lives, raising their son together. They even kept their small town clear of pre-kishin and other magical nuisances. Those things tended to attract attention of the DWMA variety, and that was the last thing they wanted. Overall, they had managed to build a relatively stable life together, and Gareth had had a mostly normal, even loving childhood, if you forgot about the occasional problem with kishin (because it was an unfortunate truth that magical concentrations tended to attract pre-kishin and the like, and two warlocks and a witch in the same household was certainly a magical concentration) or vengeful relatives. But that fear of discovery had constantly haunted them. Gareth had known all about weapons and meisters and Shibusen, kishin and witches and other warlocks, from the time he could say the words. He'd had to. Those were the things that would likely kill him.

The child of a witch and a warlock, Gareth was the product of genetics. Magic came easily to him, something like breathing, which might be hailed as a good thing if his very presence didn't tend to attract trouble like flies to honey. Along with the magic, he had inherited his father's calculating mind and at least a part his mother's charm; he could be charming when he felt like it, which admittedly wasn't often. He got his father's normal coloring and features with a sharp cast courtesy of his mother, who was a Cat witch. That was another thing, he supposed, that confused most humans. There were magical animals, like that cat that his crush lived with, but those were rare and certainly not witches. All witches, however, had an animal spirit that drove their magic, and his mother was a Cat witch, with sleek jet hair and shining amber eyes; from her he had inherited his angular features. The resultant slightly exotic boy next door looks managed to gain the occasional look from some of the girls, if not the one he actually wanted to look. Fortunately, he didn't even try to excel as a meister, and at the DWMA, might tended to draw notice far more than anything else could. If girls looked, it was only long enough to establish that he was as average as he wanted to seem.

At Shibusen, blending in had been the point. He was here for a reason. Because the thing was, he didn't want to have to live his life in fear that some idiot weapon/meister combo would stumble across him at the wrong time and cut off his head to eat his soul. He didn't want to end up as demon weapon food or even kishin fodder. He wanted to figure out how to blend in totally, with no chance for discovery. Sure, there was soul protect, but it wasn't fool-proof—there were those who could see through it, though they were yet rare, and it went to shit the moment he used magic. Plus, even if it were fool proof, his presence would always attract pre-kishin and other magical assholes because they could sense the magic even with soul protect. It was a real problem when all you really wanted was to be normal. It was a real problem when you did not actually want to get your soul eaten by some Shibusen idiot who didn't have the god damned brains to know you weren't actually a threat. So here he had come, because the only place with the accumulated knowledge to help him solve the issue, to figure out how to make him essentially human and not a magical beacon of trouble, was the very place that theoretically wanted him dead. Here—the library here—was his chance. There was no other such accumulation on all things magic, not even in the witches' realm. He ought to know; he had certainly looked there. So into the heart of Mordor he went. After all, they would never expect a perfectly average warlock to be hiding under their collective noses, right?

Get in, do what he'd come for, get out; that was the plan. Things went along swimmingly at the start. At the initial first-year gathering, he scouted the room for a weapon partner. Since his goal had nothing to do with being a meister, all he really needed was a valid excuse to be here; who didn't much matter as long as that person wasn't nosy and he could stand spending time with the him. In the end, he had simply chosen based on weapon. Shane Ackley was a bastard sword, black and menacing, and Gareth thought he would look pretty damned badass swinging him around. Hey, even he wasn't totally above looking badass. Plus, the mellow, friendly, laid back blonde seemed like a good fit for his plans. He knew he could tolerate him over the long-term immediately, and that he'd be unlikely to get in his hair. He was also the type to go with the flow, so Gareth didn't see him pushing to get into the EAT class now or ever. Really, he looked like he should be out surfing rather than figuring out how to manage life as a weapon. Plus, again, he was a badassed black bastard sword in weapon form. He was perfect.

The first thing Gareth hadn't planned on was actually becoming friends with his weapon partner, but he supposed it was inevitable if the guy wasn't a total ass. They spent most classes together, they roomed together, and Shane was a good guy. He liked to hang out; they played a lot of video games and basketball, but he was willing to back the fuck off when Gareth needed him to, which was often, so it worked out well. Sometimes, though, his weapon partner could get ridiculous notions in his head. Early on, he'd hated being called a bastard sword—thought it was sort of insulting—insisted he was a hand-and-a-half blade. While Gareth sort of understood that seeing as he had never much liked the term warlock (he preferred wizard or sorcerer since they sounded less menacing,) things tended to be called what they were called, and most people called men with magic warlocks and swords that could be used either one or two-handed bastard swords. So, when Shane mentioned this concern, Gareth just pointed out that Bastard Sword had a much more cooly fierce, badass ring to it. That he was awesome as a weapon, a Black Bastard. Shane loved the sound of that, so much so that another ridiculous idea was born, one that had Gareth slightly panicked. Shane came within a whisper of changing his name to Black Bastard, which sort of crossed the line from badass to arrogant prick and would have drawn all sorts of the wrong kind of attention. Gareth had to do a bit of fast-talking at that point. As his friend exclaimed his intentions to him while they caught a burger after a round of hoops, his meister managed a mask of indifference (barely) and shrugged.

"Hmmmm. I suppose it would be interesting. After all, someone has to outdo the Soul Eaters and Black*Stars of the school eventually, right?"

"Uh, huh…?" His friend's jaw went slack. "What do you mean outdo?"

"Oh, nothing. A name like that is just a bit of a challenge. I'm sure we're up for it. You can count me in."

"Challenge…?"

"Yeah, challenge. When you have a name like that it's like a taunt. Everyone knows who you are and wants a piece of it. Look at how many fights that Black*Star idiot gets into."

"Oh, yeah, there's that…"

"And guys like that, well, they aren't known for their pleasant personalities, right? I didn't realize we were thinking of joining the EAT kids, but I have no objection if you…"

"Alright already, I get it. A name like that will make me sound like a douche. I'll stick with Shane."

"Cool."

Shane wasn't stupid, but he was easy to sway. Or maybe Gareth just had a knack with these things, an ability to tease out common sense and laugh off what wasn't worth worrying over. Maybe both. Either way, it made Shane a perfect weapon partner. Easy to appease, willing to go along with things. He didn't often question Gareth, either, and those rare times when he did, he accepted whatever answer he was given. Once Shane asked why he was so interested in the library. Gareth shrugged and said that he had once seen a man killed by a witch and had become interested in witches; he wanted to figure out how they hid so well so he could know how to spot one. It was a half-truth at best, but good enough for Shane, who never asked again. Yeah, Shane was a good guy. His best friend. Practically his brother at this point. Sometimes veering off plan wasn't such a bad thing.

But sometimes it was. Another thing that hadn't gone according to plan was that Gareth wasn't alone. He had never, not once, thought that anyone else would be crazy enough to do what he was doing, only he was wrong. Aside from himself, there had been two witches at the DWMA when he arrived. _TWO_. The first he recognized immediately as the school nurse and almost fled right then and there. The woman had a bad reputation even among witches, and she was powerful. He had seen her at witches' conclaves and his mother gave her wide berth, which was enough reason to do the same. The only reason he didn't bolt the first day he saw her was because he was pretty sure she didn't recognize him. If he was just an average NOT student, then he was below her radar. There was no reason she should recognize him. If she'd seen him at all it was in passing, and he'd looked like a girl.

Oh yeah, that part was embarrassing, but it was the only way he could get into the witches' realm, and warlocks were lame and scattered and didn't have a fucking realm. He'd begged his mom to go when he was five, and after some discussion with Mabaa, he had been granted reluctant permission to enter, but only as his mother's lost "niece," Gria. Mabaa didn't mind his presence; she was particularly fond of her mother, a distant grand-niece, but didn't want the panic of a man—especially of the warlock variety—being allowed to roam freely among some of the more traditional witches. To make the journey, he had to spend time under a spell that temporarily turned him into woman. He hated having to do the whole sex swap, and could have done without this particular part of his life flashing through his mind before the end. Especially since he had visited the witches' realm a lot while at the DWMA; it was the only safe place where he could experiment with what he was learning, after all.

The second he actually knew, sort of. They were the same age and he'd talked to her once or twice in the witches' realm when he'd looked like a girl. Again, she didn't seem to recognize him—even if he looked similar as a girl, he was still a _girl_ there—but every once in a while, she did a little double take when he passed. They didn't talk, and she didn't say anything, so he hoped if she did know what he was she kept her trap shut. After all, he knew her secret, too, so she had as much to lose as he did. And she was a Raccoon witch, and not some nasty, evil Gorgon like the school nurse, so he didn't fear her, either. What he really wondered was what the hell they were doing there. That Medusa woman was probably up to something sinister, he'd figured, and he'd been right. Kim had not been so different from him, really. It seemed she'd craved something like normalcy or safety. Well, who didn't?

Yes, for a while, even with the occasional curve ball, things had gone along very, very well. Getting in and out and going on with his life had been a very real possibility for months, a year even. And then… Then he had started to notice Maka Albarn.


	2. Chapter 2: Infatuation and Other Madness

**Chapter 2: Infatuation and Other Madness**

_And now it's time to build from the bottom of the pit  
Right to the top_

In many ways, it was surprising he didn't notice her sooner. Gareth spent a lot of free time in the library, but he was so hell bent on his quest that he probably wouldn't have noticed a succubus stripping on the middle of the table right in front of him most of the time. It's not that he loved to read, exactly. More like when he was focused, he was _focused_. He'd heard her name before, of course. Everyone knew who she was: Top of the Crescent Moon EAT class, partnered with, for whatever unfathomable reason, an overprotective underachiever who looked more kishin than human, it was impossible _not_ to have heard of her. But Gareth was in the NOT class. He didn't move in EAT circles, didn't pay attention to them. He'd seen the partner a few times before he noticed her, hard not to stare at a guy with that hair and those eyes and those f_ucking horrendous teeth_ if he passed within a few feet of you while you were taking a piss, but her he had never much attended to. Until, that is, he did.

It was more accurate to say that she noticed him, if he were being honest. He'd been pouring over a very old, very large, very serious and scary looking tome. And muttering under his breath. And cursing. It was in Latin, and Gareth's Latin was pretty damned weak. All that muttering must have drawn her eyes, or maybe her ire, because he heard a voice ask if he needed any help and looked up to see big olive green eyes staring down at him with an odd mixture of curiosity and mild annoyance.

"Mmm… no, no, I'll get it. But thanks?" He needed her to go away. He did not want people prying into his business.

"_Anima_ _Artificium_? That one is in very verbose Latin," her eyes narrowed,"it's also from the restricted section. How did you…"

He quickly pulled out a slip of paper.

"I have a pass. It's for a project. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

The pass was admittedly forged, a very good, magically executed forgery that no one shy of the professor in whose name it was written would be able to gainsay. And that professor was away on a mission; Gareth tended to plan around such things. His entire aim was to avoid notice and the trouble that tended to come with it. Like… this. He hoped she would walk away, busy as she must be with her own reading. She didn't.

"I can help if you'd like. I've read it, and I have an interest in soul theory. And my Latin is good."

And then, she flashed him the most dazzling, friendly smile. His heart caught in his throat at that smile. She seemed almost… excited. He didn't really understand it, and it was clear waving her away wasn't going to be easy. Plus his Latin was truly dreadful. Maybe accepting the help of this cute, bookish girl wouldn't be such a bad thing. Just this once.

"If you have time, I guess it couldn't hurt," he sighed. "My Latin is… not good. Why couldn't this one be in Greek or Runic?" Her eyes widened.

"You know Runic?" she gasped.

"Uh, yeah. I picked it up in my studies. Uh…" Fuck. He should have been more careful. Knowing the language of magic wasn't exactly common, especially among the non-magical. Change the subject, change the subject, change the fucking…

"I'm Maka, by the way."

"Maka…" At least she had changed the subject for him. But why did that name sound so familiar? Ah. Double fuck.

"Maka…Albarn? As in top of the Crescent Moon EAT class, daughter of THE Death Scythe, Maka Albarn?"

"Yes!" She said with an embarrassed smile and a slight blush that he'd recognized her name. This was, possibly, the last student in the school whose notice he needed. He'd seen her around the library many times, but had never connected the bookish girl to the top student whose reputation was known by… well… everyone in Shibusen. Probably a lot of people outside of Shibusen, too. Definitely not good, but he could hardly wave her off now without drawing even further notice.

"Uh, nice to meet you. I'm Gareth, middling NOT student." She frowned in response.

"Meister?" It was half statement, half question. He nodded. She stared at him, unblinking, for a few seconds before continuing.

"That's heavy reading for a middling NOT student."

"Well, I was encouraged to take on an extra project. Wasted potential or some other silliness. So here I am." He smiled, his most innocently charming smile, hoping the explanation would pass muster. She nodded in response before sitting across from him.

"I guess NOT students wouldn't be assigned extra lessons. What's your project?"

"Uh…" Think fast, think fast, Shinigami be damned why had he had to mutter his frustration so loudly? "Soul protect. I was, uh, curious about how it worked, so Professor Gask encouraged me to look into it."

"Oh…oh! It is interesting! Even those of us who can see souls can't see past soul protect, though I hear there are a few who can. I've researched it some myself. I can recommend some books if you'd like, and I'll help you with _Artificium _of course. I just finished my homework so I have a little time right now, plus I can show you where the most relevant parts are."

"Um, okay, thanks." It wasn't like he could refuse her without looking like a crazy asshole. So, she helped him. Actually, a lot. Her Latin _was_ good, and she had a sharp mind. He was able to get through far more of the book with 30 minutes of her help than he had in the hours he'd poured over it before. Unfortunately, half an hour was all he got that day. He heard the shuffling footsteps approach first, then noticed the boy hovering over his newfound acquaintance and had to stop himself from doing a double take. Ah. He'd known, of course he'd known, but it was a different matter to see it up close. White hair, red eyes, ridiculously sharp teeth that were pointed his way in a less than friendly sneer before his face relaxed into boredom as he shifted his gaze down to his partner, who was still working over the book.

"Hey, Maka. It's time to go."

"Uh.. oh, hey Soul. Yeah, I guess I lost track of time." She started to pack up, seemed about to say something to Gareth, but was interrupted.

"What's with this asshole?" he thumbed to the NOT student, "you holding some kind of nerd convention?"

"_SOUL_!" She sounded angry. "Be _NICE_. This is Gareth. I was just helping him with some Latin."

"Latin is for pussies," he snorted. Gareth wasn't going to take the bait. Couldn't, really. He shrugged in response; he didn't have time to exchange insults with some albino freak. Turned out, he would have wasted his breath had he been so inclined as he saw said freak suddenly take a rather hard blow from the Latin text in question straight to the cranium, Maka standing over his now prone form triumphantly.

"What was that?" she said with a sweet, dangerous smile.

"I said…" He glared up at her, dazed. She waved the _Anima_ _Artificium _menacingly above him. "Nothing," he said with a disgusted huff.

"That's what I thought." The smile was all sweetness now as she turned to Gareth.

"I'll be going, but if you need anymore Latin help, don't be afraid to ask." Gareth just blinked for a moment, flabbergasted by the quick change. It was almost like she was several different people. She'd gone from smart and bookish, to violent and domineering, and now to polite and considerate, all in less than sixty seconds. Gareth had never seen anything quite like it.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks for your help," he stammered out. The boy on the ground was picking himself up, and as they walked away, the white-haired weapon threw a threatening glare his way just before they left the library. Gareth didn't even try to hide his stare after them as he caught snippets of some inane conversation about basketball before they rounded the corner. Fuck. That was… what the fuck?

He was pulled from his non-thoughts by soft, familiar laughter. Shane was leaned up against the wall, chuckling, shaking his head.

"What… was _that_ all about, dude? Since when do you pick fights with angry EAT assholes?"

"Since… never. I didn't do shit. That bastard just… and anyway, I didn't…" he spluttered. He was never at a loss for words, less so with his own partner, yet here he was, unable to form a coherent sentence. He felt like he'd been the one to be smashed in the cranium instead of that snarky shark-toothed bastard.

Shane laughed again.

"Well, man, if you decide to start getting chummy with Maka Albarn, you are bound to draw the ire of her weapon. Or her father. Probably both. Everyone knows that."

"I didn't 'decide to get chummy.' She was just helping me with some Latin. Hell, can't you talk to someone without it becoming some sort of national incident in this damned school?" Shane just laughed yet again.

"Dude, not to her. Not with her over protective weapon around. He nearly got sliced in half by the demon sword protecting her, I heard. He probably eats NOT guys like us for lunch." Gareth shrugged. He rarely got annoyed with his partner, and fuckitall he was right, but somehow, he didn't want to admit it.

"It was just studying," he grumbled. "Anyway, they're gone." He shut _Anima_ _Artificium, _which Maka had returned to the middle of the table, and slipped it, along with the notes he'd taken and some she'd taken for him, into his bag.

"Up for some basketball?" Shane asked.

"Sure."

As it so happened, they did not play basketball that day. The courts were occupied by Maka, her weapon, and their friends, and both Gareth and Shane thought it best if they steered clear of any further encounters with the EAT crowd for the day. Forever, if possible. That didn't mean he never saw Maka, though. Like him, she spent time in the library almost daily, and she would usually at least smile and wave at him now. Sometimes, she would offer to help him with Latin. Several times, she had actually sought his help… _HIS HELP… _with Greek or Runic. He marveled that he had never paid her much mind before. How had his eyes not been drawn her way like moths to a flame? Smart, beautiful, strong. But also very, very dangerous to him. _She could see souls_. She had never seen through his soul protect, but what if she did some day? He'd be screwed. No, fuckitall, he'd be _dead_, food for her fucking asshole of a weapon. If he were smart, as smart as he fancied himself, he would avoid her like a sickness. The same way he avoided people like Shinigami's son, or that damned odd EAT professor with the stitched up coat and malicious stare. People who could see souls could be his undoing; it didn't matter that he wasn't technically doing anything wrong. His very existence was enough. Even so, he kept talking to Maka. Or rather, she kept talking to him. They weren't friends, not really, more like library acquaintances, but he enjoyed their time together. Looked forward to it. Plus, he rationalized, she really was helping him. Had he mentioned his Latin had sucked? Her help improved it. She steered him towards some really useful books and some of the initial passages she pointed out in _Anima_ _Artificium _about the differences between human and witch souls had provided a much needed catalyst. It had been the beginnings of him finding his answer.

That didn't mean he should have _planned_ his library times to coincide with when she was most likely to be there. It certainly didn't justify him spending more time watching her than focusing on his own work. She was just so damned fascinating. How had he not noticed again? And those days where he helped her or she helped him were the highlight of any given week. Sometimes, she would even talk about her life or about missions. The later he found especially interesting. Sure, he knew all about pre-kishins since they'd been a constant headache for his parents growing up, but the one he had fought himself didn't really count. His knowledge was mostly observational or second hand. But her? She was fearless. She would take on the world. And she helped people, really helped people. Sometimes it made him question what the hell he was doing. When had he ever helped anyone but himself?

At first, his watching had been confined to the library. Sometimes her friends would join her. Those were the most fascinating times. They had such a strange dynamic, all of them, part easy camaraderie, part anger and annoyance, part genuine concern and care. It reminded him a lot of his friendship with Shane sometimes, except more… what? Honed? Intense? He couldn't quite put it into words. There was a bond there forged by something he was sure Shane and he had never faced. A few of them, Gareth was never sure how Maka could stand. That blue haired idiot, for one. So loud and full of himself, his voice heard across half the room with every utterance. And what the fuck kind of name was Black*Star anyway? Rumor had it the guy was really strong. Maybe. All he saw was a boastful ass. The blue-idiot's weapon, though, was fine: pretty and calm, even serene. Why she put up with him he couldn't guess, anymore than he quite understood why Maka put up with the boastful meister, or worse yet, her own weapon. That was the part he least understood. It wasn't just a first impression thing, (he knew they hadn't gotten off on the right foot,) but the guy was, simply put, an asshole. With a capital A. Every time the scythe came in to retrieve her or seemingly just plain bother her, he had something snarky to say. He seemed to live to call her names, or drive her up the wall with his ridiculous too cool for school attitude. Gareth might have had the urge to do something about it if she weren't so good at it herself—a well-placed book tended to put the idiot in his place. That was fairly amusing, not to mention satisfying to watch, he had to admit. But why the fuck did she keep putting up with him? It's not like he was the only weapon around. Okay, so scythes were rare, but there were other weapons. Maybe he was just really powerful as a weapon? That had to be it. Gareth couldn't sort another reason. Then again, he also couldn't sort why so many girls made eyes at the guy. To Gareth, he just looked like a weirdo. Maybe that was the appeal, who knew? He'd never well understood the opposite sex.

It had gotten worse when she befriended the Shinigami-son and he started to occasionally come in. Another powerful person with soul perception was the last thing he wanted to be around. Smart bet would have been to leave every time he was there, but he always stayed, sick fascination riveting him behind a book to listen and observe. The proto-death god was a strange one, but at least he was level-headed and intelligent (when not being extremely odd and freaking out about lame shit like a shoelace being untied—how was this guy a god again?) And the two sisters who served as his weapons were largely fine. The blonde girls seemed nice enough, if sometimes a bit silly or lewd. No, despite his initial reservations about being in the same room as the young shinigami, his biggest problem came from the white-haired ass of a scythe who occasionally tossed Gareth a scowl or a taunt. Gareth, for his part, did his best to forget the other boy existed and hoped the weapon would never go so far as to confront him directly. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight, least of all one with a, by all accounts, powerful EAT weapon who was a bastard to boot. Nope, not the type of attention he wanted.

The brief span when the demon sword meister had been her friend was also trying, mostly because the thing made him nervous. Anything that had been created by a witch like Medusa was best avoided, particularly a powerful, depressed, sexually indeterminate mass murderer. Why the Death god allowed him (her? it? Gareth still wasn't sure) to stick around in the first place was beyond him, and why he/she/it wanted to be there was equally beyond him, but Maka seemed to truly care about the broken meister, much to his puzzlement. She was a puzzle. An amazing puzzle, who clearly had a thing for deeply flawed people. Well, he was a warlock. Maybe her thing for weirdoes wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Watching her in the library had become his favorite pastime, slowing his progress on figuring out how to mask himself completely; he had a very good idea of what he wanted to do after a while, of what might work, but needed to know more to figure out how to do it. To figure out if he even could. When he knew his infatuation for the scythe meister had gotten out of hand , however, was when he started showing up other places he knew she'd be. He never talked to her there—consciously avoided her notice—he just enjoyed watching her. He even took the precaution of altering his soul protect so his spiritual presence wouldn't read as him unless she noticed him. It was a small trick that worked wonders when you were stalking someone.

How the fuck had he become a stalker again? Oh, yeah. Somehow, ridiculously, he had managed to fall for his library buddy, the woman who didn't know he existed outside of his ability to translate Greek and Runic and his interest in soul masking. Yeah, he was some warlock alright. Shane had begun to notice, too, as Gareth more and more often suggested places to go where the scythe meister and her group always happened to be. After they'd been heavily scowled at by the shark-toothed scythe bastard walking by to use the John one afternoon, his weapon casually commented,

"I thought we were avoiding EAT attention."

"We were, but I've been thinking about something."

"What? Getting your ass kicked by a pissed off scythe? You know I've got your back man, but I can't say I wouldn't rather not fight someone who eats pre-Kishin for breakfast. Literally."

"You could eat them too, you know."

"No, I can't. We don't fight Kishin. That's why we're in the NOT class. We don't wanna fight Kishin," he froze at Gareth's thoughtful expression. "Do we?"

"Maybe?"

"You're serious? I mean… we're not even that good in our class. No way we'd pass the damned EAT trials. I never thought you wanted to pass them. Look, Gareth," Shane looked more serious than his meister had ever seen him, his light blue eyes thoughtful. "I've always known you were holding shit back." His voice was quiet. Shane was never this serious. "I just always thought it was because you didn't want to fight Kishin or whatever. Is this about that girl? I know you have a thing for her. I'd have to be an idiot not to have noticed that we're practically stalking her," Shane noticed the scythe returning from the bathroom here and paused as the other weapon passed them with a bored expression, not even bothering with the scowl this time. He then continued, "is it really worth getting killed over a girl?" Gareth was stunned. His partner had given him shit about Maka before, just like he gave the bastard sword shit about his crush of the week, but he hadn't thought he was so obvious. And yeah, part of him wanted to join EAT because of her. Okay, a big part. But there was something else, too. The truth was that Gareth had been considering switching classes for a long time, but he'd never spoken it aloud. Never until now. Was surprised at himself to have voiced it. He didn't just want to be closer to the scythe meister, either. He wanted to… do something. Something that mattered. Something that helped people, not just him.

He supposed that was her influence, too, this wanting to protect others. Hers. And Shane's. Because Shane was a decent guy, and Shane had occasionally talked about how awesome the EAT class was because of how they were badasses who helped protect people from kishin assholes. Okay, yeah, a few of them were jerks, but they were strong jerks who helped others. He didn't seem to mind that he wasn't that strong; he just thought it was cool that people who were strong enough put their lives on the line like that just to make the world better. And instead of just wanting to live in peace, just wanting to save his own ass, Gareth was beginning to think so, too. And the thing was, a weapon could only be as strong as his meister, and if the meister was a half-assed selfish warlock prick who was only there to secretly figure out how to fully and permanently pass as human, and thus strove to blend in with bland mediocrity, well, the weapon wasn't going to get very far. But Gareth _could_ be a good meister, and Shane _could_ be a good weapon. Hell, away from the DWMA and other students, where Gareth could use his powers, they would be a very strong team. They could make a difference. It was a risk; it would be the first risk he had ever taken for reasons not purely selfish. Joining EAT would draw unwanted attention, though Gareth thought he had the answer for that. He was close, so very close, to perfecting the perfect mask. The undiscoverable mask. The one that could beat even those who saw through soul protect. That attention would no longer matter, then. But there was another risk, too.

Shane. If they were to do this, it would mean trusting Shane completely. Trusting that he believed in him, trusting that he would keep his secret. Because Shane was bound to figure out what he was if they started resonating, as they would have to do to join EAT. He would know, and if he decided to tell the Death-god the truth, then Gareth was going to end his days as weapon food, all because he'd wanted to make a difference. Doing this meant he trusted Shane. And he did. He really did. His partner's voice brought him back to the moment.

"Gareth? Hey, earth to Gareth?"

"It's not about her," he finally said. "I mean, not really. I just want to do something. Make a difference. Ever since the Kishin Asura was loosed, things have gotten worse. I want to help, you know?" Shane looked surprised, then thoughtful.

"Yeah, I get it. If you really think we can do this, if it's really what you want, I'm in. We're partners. If you think we can do this, well…" He grinned and Gareth felt relief that he seemed himself again. "EAT weapons _are _pretty popular among the ladies. Can't say I'd complain."


	3. Chapter 3: Transformative Revelations

**A/N: ****In this chapter, the subtitle "It's the End of the World as we Know it and I feel Fine" does not belong to me-Thank you REM.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Transformative Revelations (or It's the End of the World as We Know It and I Feel Fine)**

_So this is where you fell  
And I am left to sell  
The path to heaven runs through miles of clouded hell_

Gareth's first task had been testing his theory. He needed to know if it would work before he drew this kind of attention to himself, needed to be sure he could pass as completely human even under the eyes of advanced soul perception. That had meant a trip to the witches' realm, which had meant more time as Gria. He hated that, but there wasn't really much choice. Working this kind of magic in the human realm was just too damned risky. So he'd gone home for an extended weekend, gotten his mother to cast the gender bending spell on him, endured a few minutes of relentless ribbing from his father about it, and then butt signed his way into the realm and took up residence in the library to work out the details of the spell.

The real surprise was how shockingly simple it was. How few had considered it before. That book he had read with Maka so long ago had planted the seed; it had suggested that souls could be transformed. All he had to do was to become human. That it was possible simply to become human wasn't something most considered, though it certainly was possible. The more he'd read, the more he'd found that the spell did exist. He saw several references to a witch, centuries past, named Arina, who had opted to become human to live with her human lover. She was always spoken of in the witch histories with derision. He supposed that the fact people did not tend to take this route very often made sense when he really considered it—witches and warlocks wanted to pretend to be human, sure, to pass as human. They didn't want to _be_ human. Gareth did. Or rather, he had thought he did. But was he really like Arina? When it came down to the prospect of forever giving up magic, that desire had become less certain. He wanted to live in peace, but did he really want to give up magic forever? Maybe. He wasn't sure. So he continued to research and kept coming across the name of a warlock named Rizen, a disciple of Eibon. After Eibon's disappearance, Rizen had denounced magic and become human. He was the first known case of this, with only Arina following suit two centuries later. Most histories of Rizen ended there, with his renunciation of magic and entry into the human world. Except for the one that didn't.

Gareth had found the small volume hidden deep in the restricted section. It was very, very old and had clearly remained untouched for decades, perhaps centuries. It didn't look like much, but Gareth was thorough and very old books tended to have the most promise. He perked up when he noticed it was in Runic, which meant it was likely to have information about magic, and then he noticed the title: _Rizen's End_. He'd almost discarded it, thinking it was another account of the warlock's renunciation of magic, but ever diligent, he started to read instead. And shortly, his jaw dropped. According to _Rizen's End_, a century after Rizen renounced magic, he reemerged briefly to fight a particularly powerful pre-kishin on the verge of becoming a full kishin. He had sacrificed himself in the battle. That was his end. But that wasn't the important part, no. The part that had Gareth's mind spinning was that he had used magic. By every account, and there were many, Rizen had undergone the spell to become human. And yet, a century later, he fought a kishin as a warlock. It didn't make any sense. Gareth almost discounted it entirely at first. It was a tale, a fabrication. Wishful thinking. It had to be. But too many details made sense and it had the wheels in his head turning. Supposing it were true, how had Rizen done it? How had he become human, but then managed to become a warlock again?

Gareth had chewed on that one for months while searching for the spell that could make him human. The spell itself he'd found in an unobtrusive, untitled book he was sure had once been some warlock's spell book, but had somehow found its way into the restricted section of the DWMA, probably when whichever weapon/meister duo had killed the poor bastard had stumbled across it amongst his remains. Oh well; that guy's loss was his gain. He was elated when he found it, but that elation turned to ash when he realized he wasn't ready to give up his magic. That all of this had been for nothing. So he'd mulled over Rizen some more. How had he done it? _HOW_?

When the answer came, it came again because of Maka. Or rather, because he was, once again, eavesdropping on her and her friends. It was the blond sisters who had really planted the seeds this time. It was three months after he had stumbled onto the book about Rizen. He had been trying not to think about it, trying to convince himself to just become human and get it over with. With the Kishin loose, with the witch Arachne and Arachnephobia wrecking havoc, there was more need than ever for weapon/meister combos who could fight the coming darkness. As a human, he could join EAT and do something, make a difference. He was sure he and Shane could make it. His thoughts were interrupted as the two women entered the library and sat across from Maka and her tall, dark-haired weapon friend. They were giggling, their discussion perverse.

"You'd really let someone tie you up, sis?" the younger one giggled again.

"Sure, it's fun if you find the right guy," she winked.

"Wait, what?" Maka had dropped her book and stared at the tall blonde, jaw dropping, face red.

"Bondage. You know, when you tie up your partner and have your way with him, or let him do the same to you? Come on, Maka, even you can't be that ig.."

"I _know_ what it is," she said between clinched teeth. "I just can't believe you'd let some guy…"

"Not just some guy. Someone you trust. I mean, surely you of all people could trust…"

"DON'T EVEN SAY IT." The blonde girls laughed riotously at this, and Gareth frowned. Maka's friends liked to tease her about her weapon like they were a couple, but of course, she always insisted that wasn't the case. He disliked that type of teasing too, if for different reasons. Gareth felt relief as he heard the calm voice of the shadow weapon speak up.

"But Liz-Chan, have you really let someone…" The blonde laughed again.

"No. But I would for the right person," she winked again and smiled.

"Even if you did trust the person, though," the shadow weapon went on, "they could not realize if you changed your mind, and then it would be bad."

"No, no," the one called Liz laughed, "that's why you have a safe word."

"Safe word?" This was Maka, who had opted to remain quiet once attention shifted away from her.

"Mmm hmmm. You pick a silly word or phrase, like strawberry pickles, and then if you become uncomfortable, you say it and your partner knows to stop. If you trust the person, it shouldn't be a problem," she shrugged,"at least, that's what I hear."

"Where do you hear…" Maka was incredulous.

"POOOOORRRN!" The younger blonde sang out, her laughter riotous. Maka and the shadow weapon turned red, eyes downcast. Maka looked close to bashing the shorter blonde with a book. Then someone mentioned they were supposed to meet the boys for basketball and the group left. But Gareth had heard enough. Safe word. Yes, that was it! It clicked for him then, that idea of an out, of a safety net. Safe word. That had to be how Rizen had done it. He'd built in a safe word, an out as it were. That was how he could make the spell work.

It had only taken another few weeks to figure out how he could alter the spell to build in a safety net. In theory, anyway. The real problem was testing it. Because if he was wrong, he would end up human forever and he wasn't positive that's what he wanted. So for a few more weeks he dithered. And then he'd had that conversation with Shane and everything he'd considered for months came flooding out and suddenly it was now or never. So there he'd found himself, back in the witches' realm as Gria. He was so tired of all the masks he wore, would, even with this more foolproof mask, continue to have to wear.

As he prepared the spell, he thought of another problem. If he cast the spell to make himself human as Gria, would he be stuck as Gria if the safe word failed? But no—his mother could change him back. And anyway, the spell was cast to be temporary on purpose. It would always automatically revert after 24 hours. Since the magic of one caster was almost impossible to reverse by another, it was imperative that the spell be cast that way just in case anything should happen to his mother. He never cast that particular spell himself. For whatever reason, he could never get the hang of it. Transformation magic was one of his weakest types, and the few times he'd tried, he'd always come out wrong somehow. The worst had been when he'd ended up with a fish tail. That had been both embarrassing and, given his weakness in transformation had caused it, difficult to reverse. So his mother always cast the spell for him, and she always cast it with the limit. He had even considered having his mother or father cast the human transformation spell on him, thinking they might be able to reverse it if the failsafe didn't work, but there were several problems with that. The first issue was that human transformation was a magic of the spirit, rather than of the body (for, after all, his body _was_ human,) and neither of his parents was very adept with such magic. But, even had they both been strong in spirit magic, it still wouldn't have worked. As he perfected the final spell, he'd come to the conclusion that such a large and permanent spiritual transformation had to be done by the caster. The magic wouldn't work otherwise. It was the nature of a magical spirit to resist change. As such, such a spirit could only be changed through its own will. So he had to cast his own spell. He'd be fine, he reasoned. He was over-thinking (though another part of him, one that grew smaller with every passing day, was screaming at him that he was under-thinking and what the hell was he about to do idiot?) He shouldn't worry so much. His mother had also promised to come retrieve him in case he couldn't return. It would be all right. Breathe. Worst case scenario, he would end up as a permanent human. That wasn't so bad. It was even what he'd convinced himself he'd wanted when he originally entered the DWMA, wasn't it?

The initial casting took awhile to set up, but he was also building it into a permanent recast, so that future castings would be quicker. This meant the set up was particularly long, but that a recast would take mere minutes. All of his research, all of his years of risk at the DWMA, were about to pay dividends, one way or the other. He hoped. And then it was here goes nothing and he cast the spell.

The world flared, expanded, then contracted. His soul shook. And then he felt the magic shatter, his connection to it broken. He was human. Really, truly human. He tried to cast a spell. Nothing. He tried to levitate an object. Nada. He was completely ordinary. He felt empty and vulnerable, naked without the magic that he was so used to bubbling inside of him, the magic that had always been a part of him. He felt like he was drowning, suffocating without the magic that was his lifeblood, part of his very essence. Could he get used to living this way? Was he stuck like this? He looked in the mirror. He was still Gria, a very human Gria. He felt every way wrong. Neither male nor warlock, but some sort of magically wrought freak. He needed to make sure he could still be himself. He said the safe word.

Magic came roaring back, flooding his veins, his core, his essence. He had never realized how much it was a part of him until the connection was completely severed, but it was. Relief flooded him as well. Relief, and joy, because holy fuck he had done it! He, Gareth Rayne, teenaged warlock, NOT bastard sword meister, had figured out how to get around advanced soul perception. Fuck yeah! Okay, so there was a price. He had to live as a human. He had felt how empty it was to be without magic, and now he was going to live much of the time without it. It wasn't going to be easy. Would it be worth it, to help people, to do the right thing, to be… to be one step closer to _her? _He really hoped so. But at least, he comforted himself, he wouldn't be stuck that way. A grin of pride stretching from ear to ear on his currently quite feminine face, he recast the spell and waited for his mother.

* * *

Sadly, the most dangerous part hadn't been over then. No, the most dangerous part was Shane. If Shane decided to turn on him it would all go to hell. After their conversation, Gareth had put off signing up for the EAT trials and told Shane they should start training harder to prepare for them. This was a half truth, of course—the whole truth was that he hadn't been ready to expose himself to EAT scrutiny with only soul protect—but it was also necessary. However, with their training progressing and (unbeknownst to Shane,) his transformation spell perfected, they had finally begun the process to move to the EAT class. They were beginning the EAT entry crash course the following day, and Gareth knew he had to tell his partner the truth before they tried to resonate. He couldn't let his friend, his best friend and weapon since they'd both started school, his roommate and wingman and constant companion, find out the truth _that_ way. So he'd done what any teenaged boy in his situation might have—he challenged Shane to a Medal of Honor tournament, ordered in pizza, and hunkered down for the night. He figured he could slip in the information casually and hope for the best. He just wasn't that good at emotional confrontations and so, hoped to avoid one even where one was pretty much inevitable.

They'd been playing for hours, whiling away their Friday night, satiated on pizza and other junk food and even a few beers Gareth had managed to smuggle out of a liquor store with a particularly inattentive clerk (he'd left some money on the counter, he wasn't a total bastard). Gareth had just gotten in a particularly gory and unexpected kill on his partner using a grenade when Shane grumbled

"You came out of nowhere like some sort of fucking Houdini." Gareth didn't even think. It was the sort of casual opening he'd been looking for.

"Well, I _am_ a warlock after all. Certain skills come with the job description."

"Yeah, a fucking warlock cheating bastard…" Shane grumbled, and Gareth almost groaned that he'd interpreted the words as some sort of figure of speech when a moment later Shane threw him a sidelong look.

"Wait, what did you say?" His expression was blank.

"That warlocks like me are good at this type of shit."

"That's what I thought you said. 'da fuck is that, some sort of fancy insider meister bullshit?" Shane got more ornery when he'd had a few beers.

"Huh?"

"You know, 'warlocks'… secret meister club or some shit?" Gareth blinked. Oh, this wasn't going at all right. Well fuck.

"Don't you pay attention in class? Warlocks are males who use magic."

"Yeah, but… wait… what?" The sidelong look was back. The game was totally forgotten now. Gareth just waited, slouching further into the couch, not at all sure what to say.

"Are you trying to claim that you, Gareth Rayne, are a fucking warlock?"

"Yes."

"That you, Gareth Rayne, my fucking meister of two years, have been a fucking warlock all along? That you, Gareth Fucking Rayne, have been attending fucking Shibusen as a fucking WARLOCK for those same two years? That you, GARETH FUCKING RAYNE, have passed UNDER THE FUCKING NOSES OF MYSELF AND EVERYONE ELSE FOR THOSE SAME TWO FUCKING YEARS UNNOTICED?"

"Yep," he nodded and smiled slightly. Shane started laughing. Hysterically. Threw his head back into the couch and couldn't stop, didn't stop, for several minutes. Gareth didn't move, didn't say anything, just waited. When his friend caught his breath, still chuckling, he just said,

"That… was a fucking good one. You even almost had me." Another chuckle.

"It's not a joke." Shane laughed in response, another round, then catching his breath yet again said,

"Alright dude, enough. I want a rematch. I need to beat your ass."

"I'm serious, Shane. We're going to try to resonate tomorrow and when we do, you'll be able to see my soul, read my soul. And it will be clear as fucking day."

Shane frowned.

"Alright. Prove it." He waved a hand around. "Do something magical." Gareth shook his head.

"You have to know I can't. I'd have half the DWMA on me if I tried." Shane frowned and got up.

"Alright, then we'll take a little drive. But until you fucking prove it, I cry bullshit." Gareth sighed and got his own coat. Drunk, ornery Shane had probably not been the best version of his partner to try to convince. Fuck. It was going to be a long night.

They were in Shane's small red truck, not far from a truck stop. They'd had to get far enough from Death City that there was little risk of being caught, and Gareth had suggested an hour drive should suffice. Gareth had driven. He had had one beer that was long since out of his system, but Shane was still riding his buzz when they left their apartment They had entered the mountains and it was pretty here. Parking at the truck stop, they both got out and took a walk back behind it and into the woods. Away from prying eyes, away from soul perception, they were alone with the sounds of the forest.

"Alright, hotshot, show me."

"You realize this could draw kishin, right?"

"Well then, we'll get in some practice." His friend's smile was tight, annoyed. He was sobering, and he saw this as taking a joke much too far.

"Well, here goes nothing then…." Gareth intoned the safe word, which got an odd look from his partner, and his magic came flooding back. It was a relief, the surge thrilling him. He couldn't hide his grin, his elation.

"I'm waiting," Shane had begun tapping his foot impatiently. Oh, yeah. It's not like he could tell that Gareth was now bared to the world, magic flowing through him, no soul protect. He couldn't sense or see souls or magic. He'd have to do something. Hmmmm… what to do? What would convince his friend? He didn't want anything too flashy. Ah.

He waved a hand and suddenly Shane began to lift from the ground.

"What the…"

The higher he raised it, the higher Shane went.

"…FUCK?"

Levitation was part of his inborn talents, one that came easily to him. He began to spin his hand in a circle and Shane floated in a circle ten feet above his head, just missing the branches of the surrounding trees.

"PUT ME THE FUCK DOWN!" His weapon shouted. Gareth shrugged and lowered his hand, Shane going down with him, finally resting with his feet on the ground ten feet in front of Gareth. As he landed, his jaw worked, opening and closing like a fish out of water, his eyes wide. Finally his mouth snapped shut and he just stared at his friend, blank. This lasted another few minutes. Gareth waited. This was it. His friend would accept him or turn on him, maybe try to kill him. He wouldn't hurt his partner, and if he turned on him he would surely be hunted. It was the risk he took. Finally, Shane opened his mouth.

"That. Was. AWESOME." A grin split his face from ear to ear. "Totally badass! You really are a fucking warlock, aren't you?" Gareth nodded.

"Yes, I really am a fucking warlock."

"Dude, I just…" Shane shook his head. "I mean how… and why…"

Gareth understood it was overwhelming. For him, too. And it was a long story. He said as much, and Shane, for his part, seemed to want to hear it. Plus, he didn't appear inclined to try to kill him yet, so that was a good sign. He hoped. So he told his story. Shane just listened. They had both sat on the ground long since and, somehow or someway, Shane was nursing a beer. As Gareth finished, having told why he came and what he was doing and what he had done and what he wanted to do now, though omitting any parts having to do with his obsession with a certain meister, Shane just continued to look at him and took a final pull from his bottle, the silence stretching long moments. He hadn't run screaming, which was good, and he still hadn't tried to kill him, which was also good, but that didn't mean he was okay with this. Finally, finally he spoke.

"So… you aren't evil. And your family isn't evil. And you just wanted to be left alone."

"That sums it up, yeah."

"And you risked getting found out and hacked apart just to figure out a way to be undetectable and not to draw kishin all the time."

"Yep."

"And you figured it out, and you could have taken off, but you decided to risk everything because you want to… what…. fight kishin?"

"Mmmm hmmm…" Gareth knew it sounded crazy.

"Okay."

"Okay? What do you mean, okay?"

"I mean it's like I told you before: if you want to join the EAT class and go out kicking kishin butt like the pair of badasses we were always meant to be, then I'm in."

"You… are?" Gareth blinked, unbelieving.

"'Course I am, dude. I'm the Black Bastard after all, and you're my meister, and like I said, chicks find all that EAT kishin slaying shit hot."

"And the whole 'I'm a Warlock' part doesn't… bother you?"

"Nah, dude, it's pretty fucking cool, honestly."

"But… uh… half the point of the DWMA is to kill people like me." Shane scratched his head at that, then shrugged.

"Well, yeah, I guess. But not exactly, right? I mean, the point is to kill witches and warlocks who are fucking with people. But you wanna protect people. You've been my best friend for two years. I know you. You're a good guy. Anyone who wants to kill you just because you can do magic is a fucking moron. I'm not going to tell anyone. So let's do this thing, yeah? Plus, I have a feeling if we get in a real shitstorm, that magic of yours could save our asses. I'm gonna have the most badass meister in the fucking school, hell yeah. Just don't get caught, okay? I don't wanna have to run off like that Kim chick and her weapon. Hey wait… did you know she was a witch?" Gareth nodded absently, still a bit stunned by his partner's easy, if somewhat drunken, acceptance. Even excitement. Then again, he supposed he should have expected it. Shane was Shane, even drunk. Maybe a little more mouthy, but still.

"Wow, cool. So is there like a secret witch and warlock society in Shibusen?" They both got up, deciding silently that it was time to go home. They had a long day ahead and it was already late. Gareth would have to recast the spell to make himself human, but he could do it in the truck.

"Huh? No—no. Kim, Medusa, me. And the other two didn't even realize I was there."

"You're that good, eh?"

"Not exactly. I just recognized them, but they would never recognize me."

"Why not?" His weapon looked skeptical. Gareth just shrugged.

"A Warlock has to have some secrets. Helps keep the air of mystery." He laughed as his weapon punched him in the arm in irritation, but the truth was, he wasn't about to admit to spending time in the witches' realm as a girl, and he prayed to Shinigami that it wouldn't be revealed during resonance training tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4: Training Day

**A/N: For this chapter, the title**** _Training Day_ is not mine.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Training Day**

_I don't ever wanna let you down  
I don't ever wanna leave this town_

Resonance training had gone well. They got the hang of it quickly, and their instructor was impressed enough to allow them to move on (plus Gareth managed not to think about his time as a girl, so that secret was still blissfully safe in his head). They took special sessions for a few weeks, after their normal classes and on weekends, and when they were through, they had to take written exams in which their scores were averaged. Shane did fine, Gareth excelled (after years studying soul theory, it would have been ridiculous had he not,) and they were moved to the final test in which they were assigned an "easy" mission. If they killed the pre-kishin and captured its soul, they would be allowed into the EAT class.

As this was an entrance mission, it would be supervised. Sometimes, advanced students got that task, and Gareth held out a glimmer of hope that it might be her, but of course, he had no such luck. That zombie dude Sid would be supervising, along with his mummy weapon partner. Gareth laughed when he got the instruction slip—being a bastard sword wielding warlock meister seemed almost normal by comparison.

Kill a pre-kishin. Right. They could do this. He'd done it once, sort of, though he'd used magic. He'd seen his parents do it countless times, though they had also used magic and he certainly could not do that this time. But he had Shane and they could resonate now. He was decent with a blade after so much time practicing with his weapon partner; even in the NOT class they did work on combat. Plus, if anything went terribly awry, the observers would step in. So really, the worst case scenario was that they failed, and failure this time wouldn't be the end of days or anything, just the end of their EAT ambitions. If they couldn't even manage this, an easy mission, then they had no business in EAT to begin with, right? So all in all, there was no pressure. Or at least, that's what he kept telling himself. And Shane. Over and over again.

"Alright, I get it. This is going to be fine. We can handle it. Yadda yadda. Chill man. I've never seen you like this." He was right, too. He couldn't remember feeling like this. He'd infiltrated the damned DWMA for fucks sake. Why did this have him so on edge? Maybe it was because he felt so damned vulnerable as a human. No magic pulsing through him, right there at his fingertips, ready to help obliterate any threat that came at him. He felt so oddly incomplete lately. But he knew it was there if he needed it, just a safe word away. It was one thing to know, but another to feel the lack of that part of him, that warm blanket of power that had surrounded him since birth. He'd need to get used to feeling that absence if this whole EAT thing were going to have any chance to work.

They had been driving down an out of the way highway in Shane's red truck, Sid and his partner following in the car behind them. This particular monster was threatening a small town a few hours drive from Death City, and Gareth suspected that the close proximity had something to do with its status as an entrance mission. Whatever the case, the pre-kishin in question was supposed to be manageable, though Gareth knew nothing else about it. That, too, was part of the test. To figure out what they faced and to figure out how to defeat it, that was their task. If they could defeat it. That part of him that felt naked without his magic screamed that they couldn't do this, and he wished he were back home in bed.

Two hours later, roaming the near empty streets of the small town aimlessly, the midday sun blazing overhead, Gareth just wished the damned thing would show itself already so they could get it over with. Pass, fail, whatever, he was sick of walking around and frying in the heat. Gareth normally sported all black—jeans, t-shirt, sometimes a trench coat, sometimes a military style jacket. Today, for whatever reason he could no longer fathom, he'd brought his trench, which he had left in the car, and at this point he was about ready to strip off his t-shirt as well. It was drenched in sweat and stuck to him like a steaming rag. He eyed his weapon enviously; Shane had always favored sports attire, and that day, he looked fairly comfortable in basketball shorts and a tank top. Lucky asshole. Or more likely, practical asshole. Gareth had always favored appearance over function in clothing, and today it had bitten him in the ass.

Actually, his weapon had always been the more practical of the two of them when it came right down to it. Gareth was smart, but he did ridiculous things like, oh, enroll at the DWMA or wear head to toe black in the heat or follow around a meister with soul perception. Shane tended to be much more sensible, much more willing to go with the flow. He'd long known, just from being his friend, that his partner was the only weapon in a fairly typical family from San Diego, that he'd grown up surfing and engaging in all sorts of sports (it was no wonder that he generally owned his ass at basketball). What he hadn't known until resonance, but might have guessed, was that Shane was the type back home who was liked by pretty much everyone, and who was looked up to for his athleticism, level headedness, and easy sense of humor. He also didn't much care what anyone else thought. If he'd ended up at a typical high school, he would have likely been some sort of star athlete/prom king, but not the asshole prom king who every geek dreaded, but the one who was cool with anyone and everyone and would stick up for the lanky guy with glasses that some hulking asshole wanted to stuff in a trashcan. At Shibusen, he was liked, but as a part of the NOT class, he was no homecoming king. Gareth knew Shane preferred it that way. As much as he was likable and tended to like others, he didn't really love being the center of attention. He just wanted to hang out and enjoy life, not worry about other people's opinions of him all of the time. Oh yeah, and now, he wanted to make a difference.

Another hour later and still nothing. Gareth wasn't sure where their observers were—once they had arrived, the two had said they would be around and left them to their own devices—but he was sure they must be near. He figured it was part of their job to observe as unobtrusively as possible. Maybe they were unintentionally scaring this bastard pre-kishin off from wherever they were perched. Gareth found himself repeatedly wishing he could use magic. If he could, he would take off his human mask; cast even the simplest spell, and the kishin would be drawn to him like a moth to a flame and he could be done with this ridiculous task. But of course, with Sid and Nygys lurking, that was impossible. What a pain in the ass. How did weapon/meister pairs normally lure out their prey? Gareth racked his brain. There were some tricks, if he remembered right, but one sprang to mind. Appear distracted, helpless, an easy mark. Okay, they could do that.

"Hey, Shane?" The weapon stopped scanning ahead to look over at him.

"Hmmm..?"

"Up for some basketball?"

"Uhhh… now?"

"Sure, why not? Nothing else to do at the moment."

"Even if I were, no ball."

"Oh. Right. Uhhh… " he looked around the dusty street of the small, dusty town. It wasn't promising. He was pretty sure this place was quiet even under normal circumstances, but the kishin's activities must have driven the populace largely indoors. They had seen very few people around, even in broad daylight.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" he finally settled on.

"Really dude?" Shane was looking at him like he'd grown a second head. Gareth shrugged in response.

"Nothing better to do, right?"

"Yeah, whatever."

So they began a less than rousing game of roshambo. Shane was winning, not that it mattered. They'd found a shady spot to play their game, in the alley between two buildings. The sun was starting to decline in the sky by then and the shadows were getting longer and longer. Finally, an hour in, with Shane and Gareth having resorted to trading "yo Momma" jokes out of sheer boredom, with still no sign of another life form, let alone Sid, Nygus, or the Kishin, they heard a strange noise, like shuffling, then a low growl. The two boys froze, a "that's what she said" dying on the weapon's lips, heads turning as one to the darkest part of the ally where the sound had come from.

They burst out into simultaneous laughter when they noticed it was just a dog. A rather mangy looking, larger than average, black dog. It growled again, and they laughed louder, Shane clutching his sides in his mirth, the tension flowing from them with every second that passed. Then the dog ran and lunged, and Gareth caught a flash of glowing red eyes and sharp, sharp teeth before the thing was on him. He barely managed to avoid getting his throat ripped out by throwing up his arm in time, the dog—kishin—thing sinking its teeth into his exposed flesh.

"SHANE!" the call was unnecessary. His weapon gave a swift kick to the thing's head to stun it off his meister, and then was transforming in a flash of blue into the warlock's right hand. Gareth typically liked to use his weapon two-handed, at least in practice he had. His blows were stronger that way. But he could wield Shane one-handed and now he had to prove it, since his left arm was mangled and the damned dog thing had recovered and was lunging towards them again. Gareth brought the bastard sword up, barely knocking it away and sprang back to give himself a moment to think. Think, think, THINK.

"Attack it, damn it Gareth!" He heard Shane's metallic voice from the sword and it was like a spur. He lunged for the kishin, making a wild swing and by luck or skill, probably the former, caught it in the leg. It let out a yelp of pain and fury as it bounded back. Gareth stood, brandishing the blade menacingly, and the dog howled before charging. Gareth stepped out of the way, meaning to round on it—but it kept going, still fast even with a wounded leg.

"SHIT!" Gareth started running after it. They could not, COULD NOT, let the damned thing escape. Trailing blood from the wound on his arm, Gareth ran. He had always been wiry, strong and fast, though the heat and throbbing pain in his arm dulled his speed. He managed to keep the thing in sight, however, as it headed into the desert. Fucking perfect. It was getting dark. If he weren't human, they'd have a shot (he could see in the dark in his true form,) but that did them little good now. Fuck fuck fuck. They'd need to resonate. That would sharpen speed, reflexes, and power enough to hopefully catch the thing before it lost them in its home territory.

"Shane! We have to try to resonate. The damned thing is still fast and it knows where it's going—we don't."

"Yeah, alright," the metallic voice of his friend, the reminder that he was still right with him, calmed him. "Let's do this!" And they paused just long enough to merge their souls, the flash of light and power blinding in the dusk. The dog thing paused, surprised as it saw the spectacle of their resonance, and whimpered before turning to run again. The pause, though, was just what they needed. With a scream, Gareth executed a dazzling high long jump and landed in front of the dog, bringing Shane down on him with the single, primal battle cry of "DIIIIIEEE!" before the thing was split in half. In an instant it was gone, the only evidence of its existence the faintly pulsing red globe of its tainted soul. Gareth half knelt, leaning on the black bastard sword who was tip down partially into the ground, panting heavily.

"It's… over." He managed, more to himself than anything. He collapsed onto his rear, and his friend transformed in a flash of blue, sitting next to him, both of them laughing. It was like they couldn't stop, tears coming into their eyes. They'd won. They'd slain a damned kishin. He, Gareth Rayne, just ex-middling NOT meister, newly minted EAT initiate, completely human for the moment, and his badass black bastard sword Shane Ackley, had defeated a kishin all on their own, without using a lick of magic. It felt… awesome.

He heard throat clearing above him and looked up, about to jump to his feat defensively as a hulking blue figure towered over them in the fading light, before he realized it was Sid. Oh, yeah, maybe he shouldn't be laughing. His laughter frozen, though the occasional snort threatened to escape, he got up, and his weapon followed suit, each dusting himself off.

"Uh, hello professor." Shane greeted before Gareth got to it.

"Ackley," he nodded to Shane, then to Gareth, "Rayne. Congratulations, you've collected your first kishin soul. Welcome to EAT." They both sported ridiculous grins in response, unable to hide their joint giddiness. Fuck yeah, they passed!

"Now, Ackley, are you ready to eat your first soul?" This one somehow caught the pair by surprise. It wasn't that they hadn't known, it was just so…new. Strange. Shane blinked. Once. Twice.

"Uh, yeah, yeah I guess so, sure. Bring it on." He approached the red globe, eyeing it skeptically. Gareth walked closer as well, curious.

"Mmmm… how do I, I mean…" There was a flash of blue as the dagger at Sid's hip transformed next to him into Nygus.

"Eat it?" She asked drily. "Just grab it, put it in your mouth, and swallow. Sort of like a really big oyster."

"Uh… okay. Really big oyster." Shane looked nervous. Gareth had rarely seen him look quite so out of sorts. It was surreal. Sure, eating souls wasn't exactly normal, but he was a weapon. They could and did do that sort of thing.

"What does it… taste like?" he gulped. Gareth wanted to laugh. He'd never realized his weapon was worried about this part. He managed to keep a straight face, though, unwilling to mock his friend in this. He had his own anxieties, after all.

"Not much," Nygus shrugged. "But you have to eat it to finish the test." She put a hand on her hip and eyed it expectantly. Shane gulped again, balefully looking to the two professors before taking up the soul gingerly. He just stared at it for a few moments, then looked at Gareth as if his meister could somehow give him an out. Gareth offered an encouraging thumbs up. It felt silly, but he couldn't think of anything else. Shane gulped again, opened his mouth wide, brought the soul up, and shoved it in with a cringe. Gareth heard a grunt and a cartoonishly loud swallow and then his weapon looked at him and returned his thumbs up. Sid clapped him on the shoulder.

"Atta boy. Now, why don't we go back to town see to that arm of yours," he thumbed at Gareth. In the rush and afterglow, he had forgotten his arm was a mangled mess. It throbbed as Sid mentioned it in painful reminder, "and then we'll buy you two some dinner to celebrate before we head home. Giving people their proper due is the kind of man I was." Both boys nodded and smiled as the two professors started walking back towards the town. The boys walked a bit behind and Gareth asked quietly.

"So, uh, how was it?"

"Umm… squishy? I don't know. It was okay. I guess I can get used to eating that crap if I have to."

"You have to." Gareth grinned and Shane returned the grin as the two boys followed the professors back to town. It was good to be EAT.

* * *

Things had gone pretty well after that. They hadn't been put into the Crescent Moon class, but then, Gareth had never expected to be. That class was advanced and they were new to EAT. They were in the Black Paper Moon class and that suited them just fine. Their courses were harder now, and they had more combat focused classes, which the warlock didn't at all mind. They also had to take on extra lessons, and missions. That was the point, and they proved to be pretty good at it. New EAT students were often paired with more experienced pairs for their first handful of missions, and as with their entrance exam, Gareth kept hoping they'd get paired with the scythe meister, even if it meant putting up with her asshole scythe, but of course, it never happened. One time, they got stuck with the blue haired loudmouth—Gareth couldn't fathom why—but never the scythe meister. Actually, it turned out that the blue haired idiot was an idiot, but he was also extremely, frighteningly strong. And he insisted on doing all the good stuff. They'd really just sat back and watched during that little show, and watching, Gareth and Shane had both gained a healthy respect (okay, more like fear, if they were honest,) for the brash assassin boy. Gareth was pretty sure the guy would flatten him easily even with Shane and his full-blown warlock powers on his side, but he really didn't want to test the theory.

They'd gone on missions with a few other pairs. His favorite had probably been with Ox and Harvar. The spear meister and his weapon were an odd pair, but they complimented each other. Ox was smart as a whip and Gareth had actually picked up a thing or two from the meister, and Harvar was quiet and a bit snarky, but overall a decent guy. The four of them had gotten along well, and other than Ox occasionally fretting over Kim, it was overall a good mission. Gareth felt badly for being annoyed at the witch because of the spear meister's adulation and fears. That could just as easily have been him who had been run off.

In fact, his only real trouble as a new EAT student had come from his parents. They had never been all that happy with his choice to join the DWMA, though they tried to be supportive. They were less happy with his choice to stay and join EAT once he'd found his answers, and with Arachne and Asura running rampant and Kim getting caught, it was the last straw. Shibusen was too dangerous for him. He needed to come home and stay home. They didn't understand that he wouldn't, couldn't. Didn't understand that it was about more than just him now. It was about doing the right thing and, the part he couldn't say, it was about her, that ridiculously strong, amazing girl he hardly saw now, who would never have eyes for him because it had become increasingly obvious to everyone but the pair themselves that the scythe weapon and meister only had eyes for each other, but who he wanted to… be like? Help? He couldn't put it into words. It didn't need to be put into words. It just was. With every visit he made home, his parents had gotten more insistent that he needed to stay, to forget about Shibusen. He knew, eventually, it would come down to a real fight. He knew, and he didn't want it, but he wasn't really left with a choice.

So, when the fight finally came, he stood his ground and went back to the Academy, in spite of his mother's tears and pleas, and his father's uncharacteristically furious screaming. It was the first time his parents had ever drawn a line in the sand, had ever really tried to stop him in anything. If he continued, if he went back, they would cut ties, leave their small town and go elsewhere where he couldn't find them. His mother had protested, but his father was firm. If Gareth were caught, then they would be in danger, too. He wasn't willing to risk his wife if his son was intent on this suicidal path. So Gareth had left his family that day, bitter bile in his mouth and in his heart, but determination as well. This was the path he had chosen and he would walk it. And he didn't have to walk it alone. He had his brother, weapon, best friend Shane. Together, they would help protect the world.

Gareth tried to forget about the burnt remains of his previous life, the flaming bridge he'd left behind, but it was difficult. He'd told Shane everything, of course, and the weapon went along with Gareth's increasing drive to take missions in an attempt to fill the hole that had been left behind. There were plenty of missions to take in the chaos, even after Arachne was defeated, plenty of kishin driven to madness by Asura. With the formation of Spartoi, the advanced EAT students were constantly on missions and he never saw Maka and her damned scythe—no, fucking DEATH scythe, Shinigami damn the white haired bastard to hell—since she was too busy running around most of the time for much time in the library, and he took so many missions that he and his weapon were almost equally absent. It was why he had stayed, after all. They had even begun solo missions and those were his favorite since they sometimes gave him the opportunity to exist as himself, his real self, and bask in his magic. That was another part of the reason he took so many missions once solo missions became a possibility, and the niggling fear that he could still get caught managed to be quashed in the sheer exhilaration of it.

After Spartoi was formed, Gareth marveled at the strange turn the world had taken. Not just that the scythe bastard was now a death weapon, but much more interesting, that Kim was back and accepted as a witch. It almost gave him hope. Almost. Just because they accepted her didn't really mean much. Warlocks had a worse reputation even than witches. He still couldn't let the truth be known, was still in danger. It's not like the DWMA had put some sort of moratorium on hunting his kind, or hers for that matter. They'd just given a small handful a (likely temporary) pass. That's why when it came out that Maka had discovered how to see through soul protect, Gareth had thanked every lucky star and then some that he'd figured out the trick to living as a human, because had he not, he'd have been thoroughly, utterly, completely screwed. Shane and his meister went out drinking on fake IDs that night, celebrating their narrow escape from what might have been. It was a good night.

Things went on that way for a bit—school, missions, barely time to breathe between—and then everything went to shit. That mission. That Shinigami-be-damned mission. Why had she taken that fucking mission? Why, of every mission, that one? She must have thought it would lead her to Crona or Asura. It hadn't; it wouldn't. It would lead to her death. When he saw that mission on the board, he had almost tried to hide it. He knew what he was seeing, knew that the description wasn't accurate, knew that it was beyond the abilities of any student. He didn't hide it, but he watched it. Then, when it disappeared, he asked around to figure out who had taken it and his heart caught in his throat when he got his answer. It was Maka. It was Maka and, deathscythe weapon or no, she was most likely going to die. Hell, especially because of that damned weapon of hers. He swore, loudly, when he found out, and Shane gave him a strange look.

"We have to go on this mission."

"Wait, what? It's a top level mission and taken, bro. What's up with you and this mission anyway? You've been eyeing it for weeks."

"It's… I'll explain on the way, okay, but if we don't take this, she's gonna die."

"Um…dude, she's got a death scythe, I think they'll be okay." Gareth glared at him and he never glared at his friend.

"Buuuuutt…" Shane continued, "if it's that important to you, sure, we can follow. I've always wanted to see San Francisco anyway."

So they followed. And that, that right there, was the beginning of the fucking end.


	5. Chapter 5: No Good Deed

**A/N: "No Good Deed," the title of this chapter, is from _Wicked, _so clearly not mine- ****if it were, I certainly wouldn't complain.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: No Good Deed**

_Don't hold back  
Packing my bags and giving the academy a rain check  
_

Gareth wasn't willing to take the time to drive, such was his fear. They'd flown. Hell, he'd even considered using magic, but thought again and decided it might cause more problems than it solved. And as he'd explained to Shane just why he needed to do this, his friend understood. The warlock had even given him an out. This was ridiculously dangerous, they both might die, and it was very likely Gareth would have to out himself as a warlock to have a chance.

"I'd understand if you decided to sit this one out," he had finished lamely.

"Nah, man. Can't let you have all the fun," his friend had insisted, equally lamely. He felt relief and fear. His best friend would be with him. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe they'd all die. Ugh. Never, in his years at Shibusen, in his childhood full of lingering threat, in his being outcast by his parents, in his fraught first casting of the human spell, hell, even in the very childhood incident that drove him here now, never had he felt this mix of anxious, overwhelming fear. Never had he been so distressed. Only that time, when he was small, when he was helpless, when he had almost lost his sanity because of a grudge, had he ever felt anything close. But back then, he had mostly been afraid for himself. Now he was older. Now he knew enough to fear for Shane. And for Maka.

He'd calmed down considerably by the time the flight landed. Their first task was to figure out where Maka and her weapon were. Shouldn't be too hard. The mission instructions had suggested that the target was in Chinatown, so that was where they'd be, too. The warlock and his weapon arrived at night and Gareth wouldn't even let them pause to check in to a hotel. This was on their personal tab, anyway, since it wasn't officially a mission, and it wasn't like Gareth could have told the truth to explain why he needed to go, so they'd just ditched school and paid their own way. Ah, well. Money wasn't really a big thing for him, anyway. He could always get what he needed. It was one of those perks of being a warlock, even if it was only very part time anymore.

Gareth had considered passing a picture around of Maka's weapon to get some clue to their location (people were bound to recognize the freak if they'd ever seen him,) but he didn't have one and didn't think it was a smart idea anyway. He even briefly considered just speaking the safe words and letting his warlock soul shine unfettered. He could cast a locating spell that way, plus his soul would light up like a beacon for the perceptive scythe meister, but he preferred not to blow his cover if it wasn't strictly necessary. He was still hoping he could talk his way out of this somehow. It was a sad, slender hope, but Gareth was ever the optimist. Shane didn't think it was impossible, either, so he let himself hold onto that sliver as they walked aimlessly around Chinatown.

They must have been walking for hours. It was a Friday night and Chinatown was packed with tourists, locals, merchants, partygoers, and everyone in between crowding the streets and the shops. Gareth might have enjoyed himself under any other circumstances. It was lively, and there was a lot to see. As it was, it was utterly frustrating. How would they ever find the pair they sought in this mess? Even a freak like Eater would blend into a crowd like this. He began to despair that they would ever find them, let alone in time, struggling for ideas as to how to get to the scythe meister and her weapon without revealing his identity. He was still thinking frantically when he heard Shane's stomach gurgle from several feet away. They were stopped at a crosswalk, and Shane was scanning one side of the street while he looked down the other. As with every time else, there was no sign of the meister/weapon pair they sought. Hell, in this crowd, they might be 20 feet away and they could still miss them pretty easily. Shane's stomach gurgled again, and he felt his own lurch in response. They hadn't eaten since they'd left Death City; it was no wonder they were both famished. Well, hell. It looked like he was going to have to blow his cover after all if they were going to get anywhere, may as well eat first. Maybe if he weren't so damned hungry, his synapses could fire on all cylinders and he could think of another way. If not, well, if they were going to die, they may as well die full

"Hungry?" It was more statement than question, really, and his weapon just gave him a flat look that conveyed how stupid he sounded after bearing witness to the bastard sword's stomach bellowing out about just how empty it was.

"Yeah, alright," the meister continued. "This is Chinatown. May as well sample the local cuisine before we become someone's meal ourselves." Shane smiled for the first time in hours.

"Yeah, sounds good. I could go for some dumplings." Actually, dumplings did sound good.

Eventually, they popped into a restaurant for a quick meal, ordering a little of everything off the menu like it would be their last fucking supper because hell, it just might. When the first round came, appetizers that included a mess of different dumplings, egg rolls, fried shrimp, and more, both boys eyed the food almost reverently, loading their plates with a lot of everything.

Of course that was when it happened. They really couldn't catch a break, could they? Gareth had just taken his first bite of a particularly tasty dumpling when he heard a commotion, followed by screams.

Aw, hell. Yeah, he wanted to find them, but couldn't he at least finish his meal first? Eyeing his plate for a mournful half-second and throwing far too much money on the table, he shot up, his empty stomach groaning in protest. Shane looked particularly put out as he scarfed a dumpling and grabbed another in each hand before standing, stuffing a second in his mouth as they ran towards the sound of the disturbance. At the end of the block, in the middle of a crowded intersection, he caught sight of a blue flash that could only be a weapon transformation. People were running away in all directions, cars abandoned, screams echoing. A few stunned bystanders stood nearby, jaws to the street, eyes wide and fixed on the figurative train wreck playing out before their eyes. There was a flash of light next to him as Shane transformed, his last dumpling either dropped or shoved in with the others, and he caught up the bastard sword as he ran.

"Delany Rayne, I am here to take your soul." He heard the calm, clear voice ring out over the crowd. _Her_ voice. Shit, it had started already. He hadn't gotten there in time. UGH FUCK. There she was, death scythe in hand and glinting under the street lamps, standing calmly across from a very odd sight indeed. There was a man, also standing calmly, in a neat black suit. In one hand he held the end of two thick leashes of energy, each attached to a massive, drooling black beast of a kishin. Gareth only barely heard his reply, his voice low and smooth.

"I think not," the man said in a clipped accent. Gareth had reached the edge of the intersection and came to an abrupt stop as he watched Maka execute an impressive leap, scythe arcing menacingly in the air before cutting through the first Kishin cleanly, leaving behind only a glowing red orb.

"I wouldn't have done that if I were you," the man in black added calmly as she turned her attention to the second Kishin, this one even larger and more full of teeth. The Kishin, as wicked as they looked, were the easy part. Once she was done with this one, the other warlock—Delany—would get down to business, and then it would all go to hell. He figured that was going to happen pretty quickly as she resonated with her weapon and called witch hunter into existence, cutting down the kishin with a few swipes.

Think, think, think—he was running out of time. What could he do? UGH. There was no choice now. What the hell else could he do but reveal himself? Maybe, uh, maybe he could still talk them down? Shit. This was no good, there was no time. He watched in horror as the scythe meister and the man in black turned to face one another, and before she could start her run, Gareth ran screaming into the middle of the intersection like a mad idiot, Shane flung out in one hand towards the target, his other hand making the universal sign to halt.

"STOP!" he screamed as he put himself between them, unable to come up with a better option for all his pride in his intelligence. Fuck was he a failure. To his surprise or luck or both, the scythe meister had halted right in front of him, the death scythe hovering a mere inch away from splitting him in two. He would have pissed himself had he had time to think, but as it was, he was captured by two voices at once questioning,

"Gareth?" Maka blinked at him. The man across from her chuckled, but looked equally puzzled.

"Wait…" This was Maka. Both were staring at him, one in questioning amusement, the other in utter confusion, their battle briefly halted by his utterly unexpected appearance. Her eyes moved almost involuntarily to the man in black as she realized that he had also said the sword meister's name.

"YOU know him?" No, no, no, no, oh gods no.

"Of course I know him. He's my nephew." SHIT. Oh god oh god oh god he was so fucked. He had never felt this level of panic, rising, choking. He wanted to run and never look back. What the hell was he doing here?

Maka just blinked again, looking from one man to the other. Gareth heard a metallic "What the FUCK?" from her weapon. No one seemed to know quite what to do. Maka's gaze settled on Gareth, but he regained just enough presence of mind to grab her wrist and haul her several feet back from the other warlock. She was too stunned to protest, but she blinked at him again and then managed to get out.

"Is that… true?" Confusion was clear on her face. He didn't say anything, didn't know what to say, couldn't bring himself to answer, so instead said.

"We need to get out of here. He will kill you. You need to trust me on this. He's…"He heard a low chuckle from across the way and his eyes returned to Delany.

"As if I'd let you. These two will be far, far too fun to play with for that, little Gareth. Oh, you too, in time. I do so miss our chats." His smile was chilling, and Gareth felt his smallest hairs stand on end. He had always, always feared this man.

"Uncle Lane," he forced out, his voice shaky. "You kill these two, you'll have all of Shibusen on your ass. She's the daughter of the current Death Scythe. You should leave them be. And if you kill me, you know you'll have to deal with my Dad, and we both know you don't want that." He didn't know what Maka was doing just behind him, didn't want to know. Hopefully she wasn't preparing to cut him in half.

Delaney shrugged in response.

"Oh, I think I can deal with the consequences of our little game. Now, shall we?" Light glowed from his hand and four circles of light shot out from his palms to attach to the two weapons and their meisters, disappearing on contact. FUUUCK!

"STRAWBERRY PICKLES!" Gareth screamed and the magic flooded him. Without thought or pause, instinct or panic or sheer fear kicking in, he swung Shane in a circle above his head and called out,

"ACCELERO ARE TRANSIT EXITUS!" There was a blinding flash and then, suddenly, the scenery melted and shifted and they were standing in the middle of a large expanse of parkland just north of the Golden Gate Bridge. Gareth had remembered seeing it as they flew in and he'd needed a landmark that was close enough to work, but far enough to give them a little time. This was what his harried mind had come up with. He held Shane up in front of him, turning warily towards Maka and her weapon. She was staring at him, just staring at him, eyes wide. She took one step back, then another, seeming to stare around him, behind him, through him. The look of fear and revulsion on her face, as expected as it might have been, sent a jolt of pain through him. Yes, he'd known she would look at him that way, but it didn't mean it hurt less. It didn't mean that seeing someone who meant so much to him look at him as if he were trying to kill her didn't shake his very soul.

"You… you really are a warlock." Her voice was almost a whisper. Ah, Gareth realized. She could see his soul. His unprotected, unfettered warlock soul. Her weapon's face was tense as his image appeared in the scythe blade and he bellowed.

"WHAT. THE FUCK. IS GOING ON?" There was no answer. Maka seemed struck dumb, and Gareth didn't know what to say, mind reeling from what he'd just had to do.

"Maka?" her weapon questioned more calmly after several more moments had passed. "Hey, MAKA." She looked at the scythe blade, just shaking her head. Blue light flared and the scythe transformed, the white haired asshole standing next to her in all his shitty Spartoi uniformed glory. He took her shoulder and turned her towards him.

"Hey. I know you thought he was your friend, but he's a warlock. Rayne, Maka. Same last name, and he used fucking magic. He's the nephew of the asshole we're here to kill and he stopped us from going after our target. I'd say that means he's on the shit list, too." Blue light flared again and Shane stood next to him, taking a step forward.

"Hold up a minute. He just saved your ass. Show a little gratitude."

"Saved our ass nothing. He saved his uncle's ass and got in the god damned way. He's a warlock. We kill warlocks. Aren't you supposed to kill warlocks too, bastard boy?" The scythe sneered at him and Shane glared back.

"He's my meister. And he DID save your ass." The two stared each other down, each taking a defensive stance as their meisters still stood stunned. They were only stopped by Maka, who put a hand on her weapon's shoulder to hold him back, then leveled her eyes at Gareth. When her voice came, it was calm, her expression flat and unreadable.

"Explain. And if I don't like your answer, we will take your soul." Gareth nodded warily. Damnit, damnit, DAMNIT. His blank mind spurred into action, his thoughts racing. They didn't have time for this. Lane had marked them, fucking _marked _them. He'd find them, and soon.

"We have minutes, at best an hour, before Lane finds us again. If we are going to talk, it would be best to do it while we move. I promise I will explain everything." As if he _could_ explain everything. If they had days, he still wouldn't know where to begin.

"Fuck that, why should we trust you? Let's just kill him, drag his weapon back to Shibusen, and be done with it," the white haired scythe cut in, his red eyes boring holes through the warlock. Maka just shook her head, squeezing her weapon's shoulder to still him.

"He hasn't made a move against us. We should at least hear what he has to say."

"He's another fucking Medusa, Maka. To hell with this."

"Maybe. But maybe he's a Kim." She looked to Gareth. "Talk. Explain to me why we shouldn't kill you."

"Walk first, then talk," Gareth insisted, panic setting in, "and I highly suggest you keep your weapon ready." Maka paused for a second, seeming to think, then nodded. After looking to their meisters, the weapons transformed in a flash of blue, Soul annoyed, Shane quiet, and they began to move through the park. He needed a bit of time to be able to execute another transport spell like the one he had used; it was complex and draining to transport a group, even for a spatial expert like him, and the longer they were still, the closer Lane would be to finding them. He also needed to cast soul protect. Walking around as a full force magical beacon was a bad idea, especially when another warlock was already on your ass.

He was about to cast it when they heard the growls. Fuckitall, too late. Population centers always attracted pre-kishin, and where better for them to lurk and hide than in the cultivated wilderness in the heart of it all? He spun into a defensive crouch as he recognized that they were surrounded. He only hoped Maka was doing the same behind him. Actually, it was a pretty stupid thought; she was far better and more experienced at this crap than he was.

There were four of them. They were the same dog type Shane and his meister had fought for their EAT entrance. Though not all that powerful as pre-kishin went, they were still dangerous, even more so in numbers, and they would hold them up, which was the real issue. Best to get this over with quickly. Gareth lunged at the closest one, lopping off its head neatly with his blade. He heard Maka grunt somewhere to his side followed by a sickening squelch of metal cleaving through flesh, and figured she had tackled another. He heard the growl as the third leapt and he spun Shane around to meet it, his strong two-handed swing connecting in mid air and cleaving it in two. In the midst of his spin, he just caught Maka out of the corner of his eye slamming the fourth into the ground with the butt her scythe, flipping, then executing a clean cut.

It was over in less than a minute, the only evidence of what had passed the panting of the two meisters and the four glowing kishin souls. Blue flashed and the two weapons transformed, each grabbing for a soul. They eyed each other warily before gulping them down. Gareth was about to snap to leave the damned things—they really didn't have time for this—but instead said evenly,

"Make it fast. We need to get the fuck out of here." As they finished, he took the time to quietly invoke his soul protect. A minute later the souls were gone and they were moving again. Hopefully, if they stayed on the move, with his soul protect muting his presence, they wouldn't face any more random kishin. Those had been his fault. His uncle, however, was a different matter entirely.

Once they cleared the park, his thoughts gathered as much as he was likely to be able to, he began to talk. The other meister still eyed him warily, still kept a reasonable distance, but she seemed willing to listen. He only hoped, when all was said and done, that he would have enough time to explain himself, and that they would believe enough of what he had to say to let him help them rather than to kill him.


	6. Chapter 6: Mad World

**A/N: The title of this chapter, "Mad World," is**** not my brain children. ****Enjoy the show.**

* * *

**Chapter 6: Mad World**

_So this is what you meant  
When you said that you were spent_

It had been no easy task to explain. There was too much to explain, not enough time and room for thought to get it right. After struggling to order his scattered thoughts, Gareth had decided to suggest they ask him what they wanted to know and he would answer. It seemed the best way to get to the point. The first question was about what he might have expected, had he been able to think clearly. It was probably where he should have started if he'd had the presence of mind to figure out what the hell to say.

"What are you doing here?" the scythe meister said calmly from just behind him. He was glad she chose to keep a little distance. It was easier if he didn't have to look at her, to see her fear and disgust.

"Trying to save you," he said with quiet honesty. He heard a metallic snort from the scythe and shrugged in response before continuing.

"The information the academy has on Lane is wrong. His talent is not controlling kishin—it's mind control, and he's very, very good at it. He would have had you two fighting each other to the death in another 30 seconds had I not intervened, and then would have… oh, made the survivor a pet for awhile, or maybe given you free will just long enough to see what you had done and then offered you a quiet mental shove towards killing yourself in despair, maybe a combination. He enjoys the power of the thing. His power can be resisted, but not easily. It's damned near impossible for most, and entirely impossible for the two of you."

"Like hell it is—you think we're so easy to control?" That was the scythe again.

"Yes," the warlock said flatly. "That blood you carry, the madness that goes with it; you would have been his ready pawns. He couldn't have asked for better. A death scythe and his meister tainted by black blood? Christmas just came early for Uncle Lane. It's just the sort of thing he most enjoys."

"So he _is_ your uncle." This was Maka, and her tone was unreadable.

"If by uncle you mean my father's half-brother, then yes, but I like him less than you do. He's an evil, controlling bastard. My father doesn't like him either. He'd kill him as quickly as we would given half a chance."

"Your father. So he's a warlock too?" the meister asked cautiously.

"Yes," Gareth admitted, equally cautious. He'd prefer to leave his parents out of this mess. "But he's not like Lane. He isn't an asshole. He helps protect our town from kishin. He lives quietly. He's no threat." Estranged or not, the last thing he wanted was the DWMA after his family. Yes, they'd moved on, but still.

"Wait…How do you know about the black blood?" Maka asked suddenly, almost surprised sounding, a renewed note of suspicion in her voice. "Shinigama-sama and Stein were keeping that quiet. How did you…"

"You hear things in the magical world," Gareth shrugged again. The truth was that it had come up in the witches' realm. There wasn't much a powerful witch like Medusa did that didn't become rumor rather quickly there. "If you think it's because I had anything to do with Medusa, think again. I avoided her entirely. She's not someone whose notice I cared to gain."

"But you knew who she was." It was a statement, a flat statement, by Maka. Gareth almost cringed at the implications.

"Yes," he admitted. He wished he could lie but he didn't dare. "I recognized her the first time I saw her, and avoided her accordingly. Wasn't much else I could do," he grumbled.

They had been walking through the parkland for some time, and Gareth hazarded a look at the sky as the other meister seemed to be considering his words. Things were getting very quiet. It made him nervous. The only good thing was, if he had to transport them again, he had recovered enough to do it at least a short distance. Still, he wished they could move faster. At this rate, Lane would be on them again, and soon. If he surprised them, Gareth might not act fast enough and there would be shitall he could do against a mind-controlled death scythe/meister duo even were he willing to hurt them, which he wasn't.

The sky was clear and beautiful tonight, and he found himself wishing they could fly. If he were alone with Shane, maybe, but with… with….ah. Sweet Shinigami was he an idiot.

"You guys can fly," it was a statement.

"Yeah?"

"So can I. And if we don't move faster, we will have Lane to deal with again and we don't want that."

"I'm not so sure," the scythe's metallic voice was hostile. "Why should we believe anything you've said?"

"Because it's true?" Shane cut in.

"Enough," this was Maka. "We'll fly. Soul?"

"Fine," he said, his tone low and angry. The end of the scythe shrunk down and she mounted the haft. Then, the weapon sprouted wings and they were in the air. Well, that was fast. He'd heard they could do it, but had never seen it. He had figured it was a more involved process, but he supposed it being a death scythe thing, he should have known better.

Gareth looked around quickly. He hadn't thought this through, didn't have a ready platform. It would be easier if he had something to sit or stand on. Yes, he could levitate himself, but that had always been harder for whatever reason. It was far easier to manipulate an object he was sitting or standing on. He was pretty sure it was a mental block of some kind, but that didn't change the outcome.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" The death scythe asked, his voice seething with annoyance.

"Just a moment, I need something." Platform, platform, platform… hmm… he looked around. What could he use...? Ah! He spotted a trashcan with a lid. Not ideal, but it would work. He removed the lid, the pungent smell of garbage slamming into his nose and making his empty stomach churn. He set the lid on the ground, topside up, sat on it cross-legged, and took a moment to concentrate. The lid with him on it, Shane clasped in his lap, began to rise, and in an instant was level with the scythe/meister duo twenty feet above the ground. Five feet in front of him, he saw Maka's wide-eyed look.

"You…can fly."

"I believe I mentioned that."

"On… a trashcan lid?"

"Well, it wouldn't be my first choice, but…"He had willed the lid farther and farther up and the scythe followed automatically, matching his pace.

"How..?"

"I'm pretty sure my being a warlock also came up."

"I didn't realize warlocks flew. I mean, I know they all have different abilities, but flight is usually..."

"A witch trait? Yes, but my talent is spatial manipulation. This is telekinetic. It's why it's easier to use an object to sit on. Much easier than using myself as the target."

"And you can concentrate on that and talk, too?"

"Mmmm hmmm," he said somewhat absently. They were a few thousand feet above the city now and moving as quickly as he dared to the north. Lane should have trouble keeping up, but eventually they would have to land. And rest. That's when the problems would begin. "If I'd tried to use myself as the object, I couldn't really do much else, but this type of spatial object manipulation is easy."

"Pretty cool, huh?" This was Shane, his metallic voice almost bragging. "The first time he did it, I just about shit myself, but now it's just freaking awesome."

"You're a spatial warlock. So that's how you transported us, how you knew Runic, too…. And Delaney is a Telepath? I'm surprised the DWMA didn't recognize the truth sooner, though warlock talents can be difficult to pin down because most of you also use other magics." Maka was thoughtful, her sharp mind sifting through the implications of what she was learning. He shouldn't be surprised she knew so much about his kind; she knew a lot about most things, it seemed. All that time in the library hadn't been wasted. Gareth wished he could hide more things, still fearing he would become their target, but she would recognize such a move instantly. Flying meant his soul protect was gone and she could read his soul as easily as she read all those books in the library. A lie would be obvious to her now. There was another long silence and Gareth didn't break it, instead concentrating on the cold night air numbing his face. This high up, the air was frigid and he was glad for his trench coat. He tried to think ahead to their next move. Assuming they believed him, assuming they didn't try to capture or kill him right away, they would need to do something about Delaney. Returning to the academy wasn't an option. They were marked; Delaney would just follow, and Gareth couldn't return now that the truth was out. He'd be killed, or at best, imprisoned. Like hell he was willing face that. If they weren't marked, he could have just sent the other two back to the academy alone, but marked, Delaney would eventually find them, and without him there to defend against his magic, they would face the fate he was trying to prevent. Hell, even if they could return to the academy, he was the only one he was positive could effectively counter Delaney's ability. If he wasn't around to stop him, they would still likely become his pawns eventually. That left two options: to continue to run indefinitely or to choose a place to stand and fight. The first was really only delaying the inevitable. Even if Maka and her partner were willing to go on the run, Delaney would eventually catch them unaware and the two he was trying to protect would end up under his uncle's control, exactly what he was working so hard to prevent. The second option seemed the only real choice, but he couldn't protect Maka and her weapon and fight at the same time, and even if he could, he wasn't convinced he could beat his uncle. They were up against a wall when it came right down to it. As much as he'd come here to defend the person who had come to mean everything to him, he knew he was going to fail. He knew it, and it hurt. Her voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Gareth? Why did you come to the DWMA?" She was quiet, her voice gentle and just carrying over the wind that came at them. She had moved up to fly next to him and looked contemplative, her wide green eyes curious. He supposed he'd expected that question, knew it was unavoidable, but it was still a long story, a hard question to answer. The simplest answer was usually the best one, right?

"Because I wanted to be normal." This seemed to surprise her.

"What the hell does that mean?" Her scythe answered for her.

"Just what it sounds like," he sighed. "Do you think being a warlock is fun? You're a weapon. Sure, some people might be afraid of you for that beyond the walls of Death City, but you don't get hunted down like some sort of god-damned rabid dog just because of the way you were born." Gareth couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "But warlocks do. Witches do. We could be Saint Fucking Teresa, helping the downtrodden of the world, and it wouldn't matter if some asshole from the DWMA stumbled across us at the wrong moment. We'd be just as dead for all the good we'd done. All you people ever see when you see a warlock is an evil rampaging asshole. But that doesn't mean we all are, or even that most of us are, anymore than every weapon is like that creep Giriko. Yeah, I heard the rumors about him. Would you like me to judge you based on his actions sharkboy? Or you, Maka, do you want to be judged based on what Asura did as a meister? Well, I didn't want to have to live my life looking over my shoulder, so I came to the DWMA to do something about it." Gareth had let years of pent up emotion out in his little tirade. It was embarrassing. It was liberating. He felt like a whiny child, and yet, it was cathartic as well. He basked in the silence that followed, even as it unnerved him. It was many moments before someone broke it. To his shock, it was the scythe who spoke, and for the first time he could ever remember, the white haired weapon sounded thoughtful, his metallic voice quiet.

"How could it help you to come to the DWMA? To come where you knew everyone would be after you? It doesn't make any sense. I get wanting to be left alone, but it seems like asking to be a target to come to Shibusen."

"It was the only place I could go," this part was hard to explain to a non-witch non-warlock. "I'd already scoured my parents' library, every magical book I ran across, even the witches' realm, and I couldn't find what I was looking for. I wanted to find a way to hide myself, one that insured I wouldn't have to worry about people who could see through soul protect," he couldn't help but to glance at Maka, "or about kishin. Nothing in the witches' realm helped me. When I came to Shibusen, I thought my only chance to be normal was to become actually normal—to become human. That's what I was looking for, and I couldn't find it. The DWMA has the most extensive library on all things magical and supernatural anywhere. When you kill a witch or warlock, where do you think their books go? After looking anywhere and everywhere else I could access, I decided Shibusen was the only place I might have a chance to find my answers, and I figured no one would expect a warlock to be a meister. Obviously I figured right since I never got caught."

"Wait, you were worried about Kishin?" the scythe scoffed. "I thought you warlocks used them to do your bidding and shit." Gareth laughed mirthlessly.

"A few do, but most of us can't. Or won't. And our magic tends to attract them. Kishin are as much a threat to me as they are to anyone. More of one, even, since they are drawn to me wherever I go. The only place they don't go is the witches' realm and I can't stay there indefinitely, even if I wanted to." He kept his gaze forward. He was almost afraid to look at Maka, to see her response in her eyes. Another long pause followed. Finally Maka broke the wind filled silence.

"The part I don't understand is how you got into the witches' realm at all. I thought warlocks and witches were generally at odds?" It wasn't at all the type of response Gareth had expected and it stunned him for a moment. He didn't really want to dredge up more of his back-story and feed them details about his family.

"It's not always that simple," he said cryptically. "I didn't sneak in or anything. I had permission." Gareth hazarded a side-glance at the other meister. She shook her head slightly, then bit her lip, seemingly in thought.

"You succeeded at Shibusen, didn't you? I've been able to see through soul protect for awhile. Your soul was human enough up until just before you cast that spell." She shook her head again, frowning. "How did you do it?" He let out a long breath. More things he'd rather not share, but what choice did he have if they were to trust him?

"I found out a way to become human, you're right. But I also figured out how to reverse it when I needed to, to become a warlock again, and I built it into the spell."

"That doesn't even sound possible…"

"It is. I'm proof. "

"If other warlocks or witches are doing this…"

"They aren't," he assured her. "The only people who know are my parents. No one else. And anyway, you'd have to be very strong in spirit magic to do it at all. Not many who use magic are; it's a rare strength. Since the spell can only be cast on the caster, even if it were common knowledge, most would not be able to manage it even if they were willing. I doubt many would be." They didn't, couldn't, understand how empty it felt without the magic.

"But I thought you were a spatial warlock?"

"I am, but spatial magic is closely related to the spirit. It's a secondary strength for me. It's why my soul protect is so good."

"And you," Maka's eyes were on Shane now, propped in Gareth's lap. "How long have you known?"

"Awhile. Since we joined EAT."

"Hmmm…" She seemed about to add more when she was interrupted.

"What I don't get," this was the scythe again, and again he sounded thoughtful, "is why you stuck around. If Maka couldn't spot you it means you mastered this human trick some time ago, yet you stuck around the DWMA. Why? You'd gotten what you came for. Why not ride off into the sunset?" The warlock had to work to keep his expression neutral at this question. It was a strange thing. Gareth had always only ever seen the death scythe as an overprotective, snarky, asshole of an idiot, but he was beginning to understand there was more to him than that. It was becoming more and more clear to him that Soul was perceptive and far from stupid. Maybe his partnership with Maka made more sense than Gareth had ever wanted to see, though he was loathe to admit it. He didn't know exactly how to answer the scythe's difficult question and started trying and failing to frame a response in his mind. He was mildly surprised when he heard his weapon speak for him.

"He was trying to do the right thing."

"What?" The scythe asked, equally surprised.

"He wanted to do the right thing. You know, help other people. It's why we joined the EAT class."

"Let me get this straight…A _warlock _wanted to help people?" Aaaand the snarky asshole was back.

"Did I stutter or something? Didn't you hear what Gareth said before? He's not some evil bastard out to destroy the universe. Not some comic book villain. Even _you_ should have figured that out by now. He was the one who decided to come here and try to help you two even though he knew what it would probably mean for him—that he would end up exposed and on the run. He risked everything to do it and all he's gotten from your jerkass is a lot of lip. You should be thanking him instead of grilling him." His weapon knew him well, must have sensed how he would falter at explaining this part. How had he managed to find such a good weapon/partner/brother/best friend again? His thoughts were cut short as _her_ voice interrupted.

"Why did you decide to help us? Why take that risk? If what you really wanted was to stay at the DWMA, why expose yourself like that?" Ah, the last question he'd wanted to be asked. Because it wasn't like he could tell the entire truth. Would he have gone after another meister/weapon pair had they taken the mission? He couldn't say, not for sure. Maybe. He'd like to think he would have, would have tried to do the right thing, the noble thing, no matter who was involved. Then again, maybe not. Because his thoughts had only been for _her_ and he couldn't really say that. Or wouldn't.

"Because you're my friend," he finally admitted. It was true enough; he did see her as a friend even if he knew he was nothing more than a passing acquaintance to her. That shouldn't read as a lie to her perception. "I couldn't just let you go out there and die when I could prevent it. Better to be exposed and run than have to carry that weight for the rest of my life." There was a long pause during which Gareth didn't dare turn his eyes to the other meister. What more could they need to know? Perhaps they didn't know his life story, but they knew enough of the truth now to decide. She had just opened her mouth to say more, to respond in some way, when they heard a screech and loud flapping of wings. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit! He'd found them. Of _course_ his uncle would have found flying pre-kishin. Of fucking course.

The bird thing dove towards Gareth and he dropped the trash can lid down sharply, narrowly avoiding it, his vacant stomach lurching at the sudden motion. He saw Maka swoop in above as it went to dive again, her wings disappearing and the scythe shifting to its full blade in mid air. She brought the blade down, clefting it in twain a few feet above him, and then shifted the scythe back quickly to straddle it once more, falling several feet below him in the process. He heard more screeches coming at them from all directions, saw the shadow of a man on the back of one of the many shadows several hundred feet away, and cursed inwardly again.

"Get close!" he bellowed and Maka didn't question, but flew nearer. He swung Shane in a circle over his head as he had before and bellowed "ACCELERO ARE TRANSIT EXITUS!" for the second time that night. The world melted and shifted, for much longer this time, and when their surroundings came into focus again, they were on a warm, sandy beach near a small grove of palms. They could hear the lapping of water from somewhere nearby, and see the lights of many buildings behind them. Gareth collapsed on the trash can lid, entirely spent. He was on the verge of passing out, his vision wavering in and out of focus, the darkness already surrounding the edges. This had taken too much, far too much of his reserves to do after flying so long that night, after that earlier transport spell, after this whole disaster. He was spent and he knew when he lost consciousness, it would be hours before he would be able to regain it. He just hoped he'd bought enough time. His uncle could not move so fast that he would catch up with them soon, even with flight, even with having marked them. At least there was that. Anything else, coming up with a plan, running further—it would have to wait. He only hoped that it was far enough, that he would wake up before it all went to hell. For now, he was out of time.

"Wh..where are we?" Maka stammered out.

"Cancun," he managed to respond faintly before the world went dark.


	7. Chapter 7: The Monster Under the Bed

**Chapter 7: The Monster Under the Bed**

_Don't you understand  
That I'm never changing who I am_

It was a dream, he knew that. A dream. A memory. A nightmare. He'd had the same dream since he was 6. It had become more and more rare over time, yet here he was again.

"Goodbye! I'll see you tomorrow!" he heard his child-voice call out, watched with his child's eyes as his two friends skipped off out of the park. His body, perched atop a cube shaped set of bars, balanced there for a few moments longer before he half swung, half climbed off to run towards the swings. Just a few more minutes. If he went home now, his mom would make him do homework, or his dad would steal him away for more boring magic lessons. Just a few more minutes and it would be dinner time and he might get away with doing neither for once. Hey, a kid could dream.

"Good afternoon, Gareth."

He almost jumped out of his swing when he heard the low, smooth voice next to him. He hadn't seen anyone approach, hadn't noticed anyone sitting down on the swings; yet as he looked over, there he was, perched on the swing next to him. He was tall, with dark hair and a smile that didn't reach his dark brown eyes. He hadn't noticed that last bit as a child, but he recognized it now as clearly as he could see the sun in the sky. Wait, how did he know his name? His teenaged self, trapped inside the child body and mind, screamed to run. Run home now! But this was a dream and the child was in control.

"Uh, hi. How do you know my name?"

"Oh, I know a lot about you, Gareth," the man replied casually.

"You do?" His child-eyes were wide and only slightly suspicious.

"Of course," that smile again, that fake, oily smile. "You are, after all, my only nephew."

"I am…?" He breathed. He had an uncle? He'd always wanted one! This was so cool! His child-self did not question the claim. Somehow, it just felt right.

"Yes, and I have so been wanting to meet you. You are a very special child, you know, and it has long been my wish to get to know you. But your father…"

"What about my father?" The boy asked, suspicion rising.

"Ah, well, your father and I have never quite seen eye to eye, you see. He's always been jealous of me, and he's kept you from me out of pure spite. That's why I came here to meet you. You don't mind, do you? I just want to get to know my nephew. I've even brought you a little gift." He held out his hand and opened it to reveal a large bar of Gareth's favorite chocolate. The boy's eyes were wide and his smile bright as he looked up at the man.

"For me?"

"For you. And I have more things for you, more gifts I'd like to give you, if you'll let me. But you have to be willing to meet me here, willing to talk to me and let me get to know you. And whatever you do, you can't tell your parents. Your father would be very angry if he knew. He wants to hurt me whatever way he can, and he is doing it now by keeping you from me. That isn't fair, now is it?" The man's hand inched forward, the chocolate right beneath the boy's nose. The boy reached out a tentative hand and then nodded.

"N-no. That's not fair. I.. I can meet you. I come here after school anyway. But I need to get home soon or my mom or dad will come find me. It's dinner time."

"Very well then, you should go. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Gareth. And do be careful to hide that, won't you?"

"Uh-of course," the boy responded nervously. He clutched the chocolate closer, then thinking fast, then stuffed it down the waistband of his shorts. "Good bye un..uncle…?"

"Lane. Uncle Lane will do just fine." The boy brightened. He had an uncle! One who brought him chocolate! So cool.

"Okay, goodbye Uncle Lane! I'll see you tomorrow!" The boy trotted off and the teen groaned inwardly. Again. It was all happening again, and he was powerless to stop his foolish child-self from repeating the same mistakes once more. He really hated this dream.

He went back every day for a week. At first, his Uncle just talked to him. About being a warlock. About the types of things he had done and liked to do. Some of those things sounded strange to Gareth, and sort of mean, but he had never quite understood adults anyway. And everyday he brought him something. Candy. Toys. Other contraband like soda and cakes and cookies. He also tried to teach him things about Warlocks and about Magic. Gareth listened and tried because there was always a treat ready when he did as he was asked, but some of the things made him uncomfortable. Using his magic to levitate insects and smash them against things. Levitating a screeching cat and dumping it into the pond. Teleporting a dog into a tree. Lane had insisted that he would never become the warlock he was meant to be unless he stretched his limits and was willing to make sacrifices. Gareth just nodded and smiled and enjoyed his candy. He didn't really care about being the warlock he was meant to be or whatever, but he did like treats.

Then came the day his uncle had brought the kishin. The inner, teenaged-self shuddered along with the child as he saw it, all teeth and slobber and spikes. This was one of those so corrupt and dark that it made every hair stand on end, and the inner-meister, the one who was powerless to respond, wanted to grasp for a weapon that wasn't there. When his uncle saw the wide, frightened eyes of the child, he laughed and grabbed his arm.

"Don't worry, Gareth. He's my pet. He's not going to harm you."

"He's..not?"

"No, he's not. He obeys me. But I thought you might like to help me feed him."

"Feed…him?"

"Would you?" his dark smile reappeared as he held out a large chocolate bar.

"He eats chocolate?" The child's eyes widened even further in his wonder.

"No, no, that's for you, Gareth. He eats other things. Would you like to see?" Gareth took the chocolate and opened the wrapper greatfully, taking a large bite and responding around a mouth full of sweet deliciousness.

"Mmm hmm."

"Good, very good. We don't have time for a full meal, of course, but I thought you could help with a snack." He gestured behind him and the child caught sight of three animals he had not seen before, his eyes and focus far too preoccupied with the snarling, drooling kishin. There were two dogs and a cat, laying lazily on the ground, seemingly unbothered by the monster. The child was confused but didn't comment, his mouth too stuffed with chocolate to form coherent words. His teenaged-self screamed from his mental cage, knowing what was coming, haunted by it. Not this, not again.

The kishin grabbed up one of the lazing animals in one swipe, and suddenly, the thing was in its toothy mouth. The child began to choke, horrified, as the creature ripped the dog apart with its jaws, shuddered as the death cry rent the air, then finally averted his eyes as it spat the carcass to the ground.

"Look, Gareth. He is about to eat." Gareth looked, almost unable to resist. Where the bloody remains had lain was a bright yellow orb. The child knew enough to know that this was a soul, an animal soul. The kishin grabbed it up in its claws and swallowed it whole. It then moved on to do it again, and then again. The boy was confused. Why would the animals just stand in line to die? Why would his uncle keep such a gruesome thing? He knew, without a doubt now, that this was a kishin, the same type of foul thing that his parents kept out of their town with their magic. Why would his uncle have one as a pet? The chocolate long since reflexively swallowed, the boy felt the bile rise in his throat and retched, unable to keep any longer the contents of his stomach in the wake of that horror.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, heard the smooth tones of his uncle in his ear.

"Do not fret, child. It is a part of the life cycle. Those animals were pray, my pet a predator. Without their deaths, he would die." The child nodded sullenly, not knowing what else to do.

"Now, then, shall we continue our lesson from yesterday?" Another sullen nod, and he followed his uncle further into the trees.

He hadn't gone back to the park for a week—no amount of chocolate was worth watching that. He was quiet and withdrawn at home and school. He had seen his parents slay a kishin once, but it had been attacking, had killed people. Those animals had just been sitting there and that thing, that _thing_, had _eaten their souls._ As his parents asked what was wrong and he insisted it was nothing, the teenager screamed within his mind at his younger self to tell them, tell them everything because damnit, they would have stopped it, but he didn't.

When Lane showed up at his school to walk him home a week later, he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. The child had thought if he ignored him he would go away, but the teenager knew better. Gareth waved off the friends who normally walked home with him, almost instinctually knowing that he did not want them involved.

"Un..uncle Lane, hi. I, uh, I've been busy. Sorry I haven't…"

"It's quite alright, but I have a very special lesson today and wanted to be sure you would make it," for the first time there was an edge of menace in his tone and the teenager screamed to run, run home. But the child, as afraid as he was, didn't know how to say no, how to run from an adult who had worked to gain his trust. So he just nodded, and followed, hoping that the other day had just been… he didn't know. He wanted to forget it had happened.

When they got to the wooded area of the park, the kishin was back. Lane held out another chocolate bar and Gareth took it out of habit, then looked to his uncle, his face full of hesitant questions.

"Now. Kill it."

"Huh?" his eyes were like saucers, wide and flat.

"Use your magic and kill it," he repeated patiently.

"But…"

"You are the ultimate predator, Gareth, and the souls of others have uses, especially a soul like this one. Kill it."

"It's your pet… I thought…"

"It was an experiment, and now it is part of your training. _Kill it._" The menace in his tone was almost palpable and the child shook involuntarily as Gareth screamed at himself to stop, run, anything but what was happening. But his child-self listened, because his parents killed kishin and because you were supposed to listen to adults. So he used his magic to levitate the kishin, higher and higher, then smashed it against a large boulder. This shook the creature, bloodied it, but did not kill it. Gareth prepared for it to attack, but it didn't. Like the pets before it, its earlier "snacks," it simply waited.

"Again," his uncle's smooth voice commanded and he complied and complied and complied, frightened and disgusted, the teenager trapped and screaming inside to stop, stop, STOP because when this was over, it would only be worse. The child-Gareth screamed along with the kishin's death keen as the body dissolved into an angry red orb. His uncle smiled at him as he dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, his hands rising up to take fistfuls of his own hair. He had never hurt anything, anything, and now, now…the teenaged Gareth screamed with him, part of him, all of him. This again, again, again. He knew it was a kishin, he knew it was a foul thing, he'd killed many now, but a child, a child should not have seen, should not have done…

"Get up," his uncle commanded. Frightened, exhausted, the child obeyed. He looked up at his uncle, his tear stained face a mask of horror.

"Now, now. You have done well," his uncle soothed, plucking up the angry red soul. He stuffed it somewhere and continued. "I am proud, but I have another task for you. I had hoped to have more time, but I fear recent events have…escalated the time line." The child looked confused. He was confused. He didn't know what any of this meant; he just wanted to go home. He said as much.

"Ah," the adult warlock grinned that dark, self-satisfied grin and Gareth screamed and screamed inside his child-head to run. "But that is precisely what I have in mind."

In the end, his uncle had had to use his magic. Lane had hoped to convince him, to slowly corrupt him, Gareth knew that now, but in the end he had used the magic that Gareth could not yet, as a child, protect against. He had refused his uncle, refused his command, and then had found himself eager, willing, to do so anyway even as a small part of him continued to scream no, no, no, no, no, NO! When he got to his house, his mother was alone and preparing dinner. His father would be home soon but not yet, no, not yet. That was the important part. She smiled at him, her sleek dark hair up in a bun, an apron over the jeans and t-shirt she was wearing, her yellow, yellow eyes crinkled at the corners in a fond smile.

"Did you go to the park, Gareth?" she greeted him happily, glad to see the boy back to old habits, back to himself. She missed in the distance the menace in his eyes as he nodded.

"Good, good! Dinner will be ready soon, when your father gets in. Why don't you wash u…uh…." She gasped as she felt the choking, the boy using his magic to exert pressure on her throat before lifting her whole body and slamming it against the ceiling. He held her there for a moment as she screamed, her limbs pinned against the plaster. Gareth screamed in his head, his inner child-self, his teen-self, to stop stop STOP, but the magic compelled him, controlled him, and the madness that forced him painted a malicious grin on his young face as his mother called out his name in questioning fear. He slammed her against the ceiling again, and then again, the screaming in his head and her screaming in the room reaching a crescendo before he felt arms restraining him, his mouth, his hands. Strong arms. His father's arms. The child tried to scream and bite and kick as his father looked to his mother, who got up shakily from the floor, bloodied and bruised.

"You're okay?" His grey eyes flooded with concern. She nodded weakly.

"We need something to bind him. Now." She moved off, as quickly as she could in her weakened state, and came back with some sheets. She used her magic to tear them into neat strips, then they worked together to hold and bind his struggling form. His inner selves felt relief even as the compulsion continued to drive him, causing him to buck, trying anything and everything to meet his goal. Bound, gagged, blindfolded, a forced soul protect back on his warlock soul, the magic was unreachable and all the madness could do was to struggle blindly, uselessly. He heard his parents' calm discussion. His father said it had to be Lane, his mother worked to find the signature of his uncle's soul, they tried to settle on where to focus the search, realized how much time he had been spending at the park, then he felt himself being carried. He sensed, rather than knew, that his mother had used invisibility to shield them.

"Ah, so he failed," he heard the smooth voice of his uncle from some distance even as he felt the heat of the flames, his father's magic, rising all around them. He had summoned a cage of flames around the other warlock.

"Release him. Now. Release him, or feel the flames."

"Touchy, touchy," Lane said smoothly. "I _could_ release him, but what would be the fun in that? If you kill me, he will never be free of the command. You know that."

"If I kill you, we might be able to figure out a way. I'm willing to risk that because it is the _only_ chance. Are you?" His father's tone was cold. The teenager mentally shuddered inside of the child as he felt the power, the raw power, of the adult warlock.

"Suit yourself," Lane responded, the oily grin clear in his tone. "Release me and I release him." The other warlock was silent for a moment, then suddenly the heat was gone. Soon after so was the compulsion as he felt his body stop bucking against the bonds. His mother. He had. God, god no. His mother, his mother, his MOTHER.

"If you return here, ever, I kill you. We are clear?" He heard the fire in his father's tone. Fire and ice. He meant it, every word.

"Of course," his uncle's voice drifted to him from father away. Then hands were on him, unbinding him, holding him, soothing him. His mother's voice was soft in his ear as he screamed out in terror and grief, shaking.

"It's okay, shhh… it's okay now. It's okay."

Later, much later, when the shaking and crying stopped, when he was as calm as he could be, they had told him. That Lane was dark, twisted. That he had tried something like that with his own much younger brother many, many years ago, had tried to twist him, and when he couldn't, to force him. His father's eyes were full of grief as he told him, how he thought they were safe here, that he would never find them here, that he would have no interest in Gareth, that Lane wouldn't dare try to put his son through what he had endured, not when he was an adult fully into his power who could and would kill him. Foolish, foolish. He had the power to kill him now, long since had that power. He should have hunted him down, should have prevented this. His fault. His alone. He soothed his son, apologized over and over again.

That day, that very night, Gareth's father had begun teaching him how to protect himself against Delany's magic, against any form of mind control or alteration. That week, he began working on a new project. Gareth caught glimpses of something shiny and silver as he was kept at home to recover, soothed constantly by both of his parents. In the end, his mother had cast a spell to hide the worst of the memories and he had gone back to school, though the the truth had still come out in his dreams, and a few years later, those memories would come flooding back entirely to scar him all over again. Yet, his teenaged-self relaxed. It was over, all over. Again. Again. Again. At least the dream always ended. At least he always woke up. Only, it wasn't over, not this time, because now, it came flooding back into his mind, now they were all being hunted by Delaney and Gareth was the one trying to protect his loved ones, the one who had failed. He remembered what had happened last, the attack, the darkness, the creatures screaming, with horror. Dead, he must be dead. They must all be dead.

His eyes flew open in his despair and he heard the roar of an engine, felt its rumble in the metal beneath him, saw the concerned eyes of his partner above him in the darkness, heard faint murmurs from the scythe meister and her weapon from somewhere ahead. He let the relief wash through him. They were still alive. All of them. He hadn't failed, not yet. Not yet.


	8. Chapter 8: This is the End

**A/N: Gareth's story is finally coming to a close. I hope you enjoyed this slice of his life, of life at the DWMA, of Soul and Maka and Shane's lives, too. I certainly enjoyed writing it. ****I will be posting a very short epilogue soon that will wrap it up. **Feel free to rail at me if the ending fails to satisfy, but it ended exactly as I planned from the outset. **I know this was the title of a recent film, but I actually lifted this one from the Doors.**

**For my long-time followers of this tale, I went back and did a new full edit to deal with some minor inconsistencies and errors. Thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing and being patient with my sporadic updates. **

**If there is any interest, I might actually write a little short I tack on as Chapter 10, from the previous adventures of Shane and Gareth, working from Shane's POV. As a little bonus. Maybe. **

**In any case, enjoy.**

* * *

**Chapter 8: This is the End**

_It's time to begin, isn't it?  
I get a little bit bigger but then I'll admit  
I'm just the same as I was_

Gareth had slept for over ten hours, his mind and body utterly spent by the magical and physical exertion. Waking from the dream, that accursed dream, he felt like he'd need to sleep another ten hours or even ten days to feel normal again. Maybe he would never feel normal again. Maybe he wouldn't live that long. That very real possibility haunted his every thought as he tried to force the bleariness from his mind.

Shane told him how long he'd been out, and what they'd done in the interim. It was dark again. It was edging dawn when he'd passed out, and knowing they were pursued, they had decided to carry him and keep moving. Since flying was out with Gareth unconscious, they had hitched a ride with a man driving a flatbed southeast along the border. He was driving home to Tapachuia, and they were hoping to cross into Guatamala soon and continue south, continue anywhere away from Lane. Maka had wanted to contact Lord Death, but Shane managed to persuade her not to somehow. None of them had known quite how to proceed with Gareth down for the count, so they had just kept moving. Now that he was awake, all eyes moved to him expectantly. He was the one who knew Lane—this had become his show. Even if Maka and her weapon didn't quite trust him, they believed enough of his words to let him help them, or so his weapon explained. Gareth tapped his fingers rhythmically on his own thigh, trying to work things out in his head. His dream, as much as he hated reliving those moments, had done him a service. It had reminded him of something, and in that reminder, given him the seeds of a plan. It was a dangerous plan, a reckless plan, one that he very well might not survive, but there was no other choice. They couldn't run forever.

That shiny thing in his dream, that was his answer. Gareth looked down at his right hand, at the simple silver ring adorning his pinky. To any eyes, including his own, it appeared unremarkable, its magic entirely sealed much as his own was sealed by his human soul when he made that transformation. It was undetectable, beneath notice. His father had started working on it the very day Lane made his move all those years ago, researching, planning, executing. Gareth's father had even had his son help with it eventually, though his command of the magic his father required of him was not refined then, and he did not understand what he was being asked. The ring had taken his father two years to complete, two painstaking years of research and resolve. When it was done, he gave it to his son and told the child to use it only in the most dire of circumstances, only if he would die otherwise, because the ring might kill him along with whatever threatened him. His father had never been sure that the part Gareth contributed would work properly. Eventually, Gareth had understood what the ring was supposed to do and why his father was so cautious. As he got older, as he came into his own magic, they had meant to make it more solid, less unsure. Always meant. As the years drifted on, as the threat of Lane became more distant, as Gareth became better able to defend himself on his own, they never did. Gareth cursed himself for the stupidity of it, but it was too late to change it now. At the very least, he believed they could kill Lane with the help of the ring, and that was enough.

The warlock looked up from his lap, the number of expectant eyes on him unsettling. He had a plan, he thought it would work, but so many things could go wrong. He cleared his throat, then looking from one to another, first Shane, then the scythe, then Maka, then back to Shane. He finally spoke,

"I have an idea. I think, that is I hope, we can use it to defeat Delaney."

"You _hope?_" the scythe scoffed. Gareth shrugged.

"Yeah, I hope. It's the best I've got. Delaney is no easy prey, and we'll have to work together, all of us, to have a chance. You think you can handle that, _death scythe_?" The weapon frowned at him, then nodded.

"Yeah, alright. What's this idea?"

And Gareth told them. Quietly, earnestly. He told them, and they nodded slowly, all three, almost as one. Only, he hadn't told them all, hadn't told them everything. He had left out the ring. If he told the truth about _that,_ Shane would never have agreed and this really was their only shot. With his soul protect back in place, he hoped Maka wouldn't be able to detect the deception because the truth wasn't an option, not now.

They all started, surprised, as the truck finally came to a stop. Shane spoke to the man in Spanish as he got out, an older man, tall and thin and tan, thanking him for his help and slipping him money to help cover his gas. The man smiled and thanked him in return, offering a place for them to rest, but Shane refused and the man shrugged and went into his house as the teenagers hopped out of the back of the truck and onto the ground. Gareth waited until he was out of sight before finding an object, this time an old door cast aside in a junk heap in the lot next to the man's house. The weapons transformed and the meisters launched into the air, Gareth on his door with Shane on his knees, Maka on her scythe. They needed to get away from the town, into the waste, away from people. Flying, it wasn't long before they came to a wide swath of flat wilderness and landed. From here, the waiting began. Gareth resumed his soul protect, not wanting to attract more trouble than what was already coming, and they sat around. Maka had had the intelligence to purchase some food when they had stopped while Gareth was still unconscious, and as Gareth's stomach rumbled painfully and loudly—it had been over a day since he'd last eaten—she eyed him for a moment and then pulled out various junk food to share around. They were all famished. They ate in silence, then took turns sleeping, their coats all the bedding they had, as it was long since night again. There was no sense in all of them staying up, especially when it would be some time before Lane caught up. He could not teleport like his nephew could. In the morning, they ate again. There was plenty of silence, or quiet murmuring between one set of partners or the other. Eventually, boredom ate at them and they shared some stories, shop talk, tales of battle, or gossip from school.

Gareth got more questions about his life. Some he answered cautiously, some gladly. Shane talked a bit about surfing, the beach at Cancun having reawakened his longing for the waves. Maka brought up books she was reading, and Gareth discussed the topic gratefully, glad at the pretense of normalcy, of their lives before, the life he would never return to even if he lived through all of this. Even Soul joined these discussions, though more sparingly. Shane mentioned his favorite band at some point, and that got more enthusiasm out of the other weapon as they catalogued local music scenes and long time favorite artists. Gareth couldn't believe this was the same guy who had glared at him so often in the library, but then, they were all about to fight for their lives. Maybe the scythe figured open hostility in this case wasn't "cool," as he might put it. The warlock couldn't say, but he was glad for it. They played cards, eventually, needing to do something, anything, to take the edge off waiting. Maka kept her perception keen, periodically scanning for any hint of Delaney's soul. It wasn't until the sun was just beginning to set that she looked up suddenly from her hand of cards and seemed to focus somewhere far away, her green eyes shining.

"He's coming," she said softly, firmly, and cards fell from nerveless fingers all around. It was time.

* * *

Really, it wasn't much of a plan, but it was all he had—no, all _they_ had. He couldn't do it alone, and they would be screwed without him shielding the group from Lane's mind control. So here they were, all together, having built (or rebuilt in some cases) an uneasy camaraderie at best, about to trust one another with their lives, their very souls. It all hinged on the ring actually doing what it was supposed to do, and his life hinged on it doing _everything _that it was supposed to do, though he was the only one who knew that. The most essential part, to consume the target with white hot flames wrought from the depths of his father's magic combined with his own reserves, he was almost sure would work. His father had been absolutely certain and this was _his_ creation and _his_ expertise, his legacy for his son. If he said it would work, then it would work. But that was only part of what it would do. The consuming flames. They should kill Lane, but they would also kill Gareth if the second part didn't work, and that second part was the real wild card because that had been his magic as a child, magic he did not fully understand and could not fully control at the time, put into the ring with the strict guidance of his father. Gareth wished there were another option, but he couldn't see one. He had to shield the others, and when he did that he couldn't fight. Any fight with his uncle would be long and involved, and for any of them to engage Lane, they would have to leave the shield his nephew planned to erect. Shane he could protect as an extension of himself when in weapon form, but it wouldn't work for the other two. Once the shield was gone, Maka and Soul would be the other warlock's unwilling pawns and Gareth and Shane would have them to fight, which would not end well for the warlock and his weapon even were they actually willing to hurt them, which they certainly were not.

So that left the ring, and the plan. To ensure that Lane was well and truly occupied, Gareth would not only play his part, but once the shield was down and he was wholly preventing Lane's attack, the scythe meister and her weapon were to hit Delaney with Demon Hunter. If the ring alone didn't kill him—and it should—he hoped the combination would. It had better. There would be no second chance, and fuckitall, if he was going to die for this, he damned well wanted the people he was trying to protect to live, even if one of them _was_ the scythe bastard. And anyway, he was fairly certain that Maka's future happiness rested with said bastard and that happiness was important to him. Really, really important, even if he had never had a bloody chance to be a part of it.

So it had come to this. Standing there together, facing Delaney and half a dozen pre-kishin. Delaney had swooped down with his flying monsters and landed, calmly facing them. Gareth had resonated with Shane to milk every last bit of strength they had and then erected his shield right before the other warlock was in range, the faint blue half orb surrounding the group as both weapons transformed into their meisters' hands. The shield protected from all attacks, both physical and mental. It was his last defense as a spatial warlock, but it took a good deal of magic and could not be maintained for long. This could not last. Gareth imagined it must be quite the scene, the two groups standing off against the backdrop of the setting sun, the sky painted in vivid pinks and reds, oranges and yellows.

Delaney stood there for several moments, just staring at the DWMA students facing him, his eyes settling first on Maka, who had her scythe resting on her shoulder for the time being, before moving to fix on Gareth. Still in the throes of resonance, the meister held Shane in a battle stance even as he maintained the shield. He could perform no other magic or fighting while it stood, nor could anyone else pass through it. Delaney began to tap his foot, his mouth settling into a fix frown.

"A stand off, Gareth? I'm not sure I see the point. You cannot maintain that shield indefinitely, and after creating such a thing, I doubt you will be able to flee. What can you hope to gain?" Gareth hadn't exactly expected a conversation, but he probably should have; this was Lane, after all, and Lane loved to hear himself talk. For once, he had to praise his Uncle's vanity; this might give him just the opening he needed, because that was what they were waiting for—for Gareth to see his opening. Sure, he'd bite.

"I thought we might negotiate a truce," Gareth offered. He was a very good liar after so much practice. "You could lift the marks and leave, we could return to the DWMA, everyone walks away intact."

"Hmmm… and what? The Shinigami sends someone stronger in another week? Ah, my nephew, you wish to rob me of the fun I can have with the little death scythe and his meister. How very thoughtless of you. No, I think not. I think, rather, that I will let your little friends take care of you for me, and then I will keep them as pets until I tire of them. That sounds much more pleasant, wouldn't you say?"

Gareth didn't answer for a moment. He hadn't gotten an opening yet, and there was only so long he could maintain the shield. Once he couldn't, they were screwed. He had to do something, get Lane to drop his guard. He could make a move with Lane ready for it, but it would be better far if he found the right moment.

"And you aren't worried about my father? About her father?" He gestured to Maka.

"_Her_ father would be a problem either way, I think. And yours? I don't think he's going to be a problem just now. He's a bit busy with your mother to pay a lick of attention to you." Gareth didn't know how to react to that absurdity.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Delaney shrugged, a small, knowing smile growing on his lips.

"I do try to keep tabs on them, you know, since our time together. Your father _is _a threat if he has a mind to be one. The last time I checked up on them, your mother was camped in the witches' realm and your father was trying to figure out how to contact her and beg her forgiveness. Something about disagreeing over you, I think. You are such a troublesome child, aren't you, little Gareth? I'm thinking your father might thank me for the favor when you are gone." His smile had turned nasty.

"I don't believe you," the younger warlock's voice was toneless. He wished he could see, could check. He thought he'd be leaving his parents still together, still fine—not causing them to hate one another. His mind must have flashed to what checking would entail because he suddenly heard his weapon exclaim,

"No way! You never told me you go to the witches' realm _as a girl!_" Gareth slammed his free hand to his forehead. He could sense, rather than see, the other weapon and meister and his uncle staring at them in confusion. Fuck resonance, fuck Lane, fuck all of this.

_Sorry, dude, sorry. _He heard Shane's voice in his head, the ability to share thoughts a side effect of their resonance._ I didn't mean to, I shouldn't have. It's…sort of cool, actually. I mean, what's it like, you know, to be a girl?_

_ Not. Now. _If a person could think through clenched teeth, then Gareth's thought would have fit that description.

_Oh, yeah. Yeah. Um, okay, later._

It wasn't a coherent thought, exactly, but Gareth unwittingly let slip that there wasn't likely to _be _a later. That he was going to do more than just neutralize Delaney. Shane caught that slip, caught his plan to leave his weapon, and balked.

_What? No. No fucking way. You are NOT leaving me behind you asshole. Fuck no. We do this together, you got it?_

_ You'll die. _Gareth insisted.

_You have a better chance with me, right? To win?_

_ That's not the point._

_ Yes, dude, it is. What the fuck kind of weapon would I be if I let my meister charge into this alone? Besides, it's not 100% we'd die, no way you can know that._

Gareth let out the mental equivalent of a sigh. He hadn't told them, any of them, about the ring. He'd only told them his plan to hold Lane. Gareth conveyed the truth, the whole truth, to his weapon through their resonance in an instant.

"What does that mean, as a girl?" The Death Scythe interrupted their mental tete-a-tete.  
"SHUT UP!" The warlock and his weapon shouted in unison. Gareth glanced over to the other pair. Maka didn't seem to know what to make of any of this. Ignoring the others, they returned to their mental exchange. The shield was up, no one was doing anything, could do anything really, and they had to resolve this. Shane's thoughts were solemn.

_You really think it's the only way?_

_ Yeah._

_ Then we do it. Together. And anyway, there's a chance, isn't there? The ring could send us away, could not incinerate us, right?_

_ I guess. But don't count on it. _His thoughts again strayed to throwing his weapon aside, and Shane growled in his head.

_Like fuck you will. What if you do that and can't hold Lane without me? Then I'll be dead, and Maka and Soul, too. Fucking Brilliant._ Well, fuck. Gareth hadn't been willing to admit to himself that it was a greater risk of failure without Shane because he couldn't stand the thought of his weapon, no, his best friend, dying. But he was right, they might all die because he wasn't thinking it through. Anyway, it was highly possible that the fire wouldn't consume Shane in weapon form. Even if the teleport failed, he could still survive. He'd have to hope for that. If Shane lived, if Maka lived, it would be worth dying for. He silently asked Shane to tell his parents what had happened if he could, if Gareth wasn't able, and he agreed. In their resonance, their mental exchange took only moments, but as Gareth pulled his focus back to his uncle, he noticed he had his opening. His own internal dialogue, Shane's confusing outburst, their combined outburst at the other weapon, it had been enough to puzzle the other warlock, who dropped his guard the slightest bit. It was all Gareth needed.

"Transvenio," he whispered, and as Gareth disappeared along with his weapon, the shield dropped. Enacting a simple short-range teleport, the spatial warlock instantly reappeared at his Uncle's back, Shane held at the other warlock's throat. They had but a few moments where his uncle could be held this way, a few moments before the older warlock made a gambit to free himself. Gareth hazarded a glance at Maka, who looked stunned in spite of knowing this part of the plan, and bellowed,

"Go! NOW!" She didn't need another reminder. Her and Soul's resonance flared to life,

"DEMON HUNTER!" she screamed, the weapon head growing exponentially, glowing, menacing. She sprinted toward Lane, coming at them like a freight train as Gareth held Delaney and his magic in check with his own magic, his body, his weapon, his everything. This was it. This was the end. He was about to die.

This was where his life had flashed before his eyes.

Stunned by the very idea that so much of his past could flood his senses so quickly, stunned by the perfectly frightening beauty of his approaching angel of death, stunned by the truth that he, Gareth Rayne, was probably thinking his last thoughts, breathing his last breaths, speaking his last words, he saw his angel slice downwards, saw her begin to cut through Lane, saw her begin to spring back to work on another swipe before he whispered goodbye, to her, to Shane, to everyone, and then, quietly, firmly,

"Tandem incepe stet."

The fire began to rise around them, white hot, searing. He prayed, every ounce of him prayed, to Shinigami, to the old gods, to anyone who would listen, that this would be enough, that the others would live. And then he was gone.


	9. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The report to Lord Death had not been easy. Truth be told, it was the last thing she wanted to do, to relay everything that had happened, but it was necessary. She told the whole story as she knew it, from Gareth showing up to get between her, Soul, and Delaney, to their flight and the young warlock's hurried explanations, to the disappearance of the other meister, weapon, and warlock in white hot flames, to being left behind to fight half a dozen murderous flying kishin and barely escaping with their lives.

"So," the Death God began as she finished her report, tapping the edge of his teacup thoughtfully with one enormous digit. "One-star EAT meister Gareth Rayne was a warlock and he, along with his weapon Shane Ackley, were incinerated in the attack on Delaney Rayne?"

"Yes," Maka nodded solemnly. "The bodies and souls of both weapon and meister disappeared when the flames consumed them, along with the target." She managed to keep emotion out of her voice. Barely.

"Very well," the death god sighed heavily. "I would like you to write up everything you can recall about Gareth Rayne's soul masking for Professor Stein. You may go."

"Yes, sir," Maka responded, and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Maka?" She half turned back at the question.

"Take a day for the report."

"Yes, Lord Death," she answered quietly, turning away again, not sure whether to be grateful or annoyed. Was he attempting to give her time to grieve or simply time for a better report? With the Death god, she could never quite tell.

As she walked alongside her weapon and away from the Death Room, as they made it to the other side of the door and out to the balcony overlooking the city to catch some much needed air, Soul spoke for the first time in half an hour. He generally let her make the reports, but he had been unusually silent for this one, even for him. Maka turned to look at him, sensing his words even before he spoke them,

"You really believe that?" She knew what he meant, but she wouldn't make it easy. Didn't want to speak it.

"Believe what?"

"That they're dead." Her only response for a moment was to let out a long breath. Her olive eyes scanned the city, looking for what, she could not say. Truth. Answers. Hope. Finally, she spoke.

"I don't know, Soul. I'm not sure."

"I was there, Maka. We were resonating. I could sense their souls through you, feel what you felt. Whatever Gareth did, it incinerated body and soul, yes—there was nothing left of that bastard Delaney—but we felt the agony of his soul as it was burnt alive. You didn't feel that from Gareth and Shane. One minute they were there, and then fire rose and they were gone."

"Yes," she said quietly. "Maybe the fire simply consumed them so quickly that there was no pain. It came from Gareth—it is possible he made it to work that way."

"Or…?" Soul insisted, knowing as she knew that there was a different possibility.

"Or…they could have disappeared with the fire because Gareth teleported them away."

"But you didn't tell Lord Death that."

"I told Lord Death the truth, that they disappeared in the flames."

Soul nodded, satisfied.

"So, they're gone."

"Yes, they're gone."

They left it at that, both of them, even the death scythe, willing that somehow, the young warlock turned meister and his weapon had made it out alive, that what they had felt was not their deaths but their salvation. That somewhere out there, the warlock and his weapon were building a new life. In the end, that was the best they could hope for.

They walked away, walked back towards their apartment. Maka had a report to write, after all. There would be no chance to consider how she felt, what it all meant, how much it hurt to lose her friend, what it meant that he'd been a warlock all along. Because he _had _been her friend, and now he was gone and that hurt. Yet, her thoughts whispered—as much as this hurts, what if it had been someone else? What if it had been Soul? It was an idea she could not face. This pain she could bear; that pain would tear her very soul apart.

So they would take their day, but there was no time to mourn or to consider or to regret because the Kishin was still loose, Crona was still missing, the world was still in peril. For them, for Soul and for Maka, there was no time for more. So Maka offered a silent goodbye to her lost friend and his weapon, and as she felt her own weapon's warm hand grasp hers firmly, turned her thoughts back to helping save the world.


End file.
